


Two Parts Broken

by Tattoo_Lotus



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universes, I had a thought and then this exsploded I'm so freaking sorry, M/M, Marooned, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Physical Abuse, Suicidal Ideation, Temporary Character Death, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves, While this story is not Fluffy it's not as dark as the tags make it sound, beleive it or not the author really loves Tony Stark, discussion of suicide, physical health issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattoo_Lotus/pseuds/Tattoo_Lotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Steve Rogers and the world find out what the Illuminati did they are punished. Tony is banished to live on on an island with no other people and absolutely no technology other than the R.T. node . After living there for two years, being driven crazy by guilt, bitterness, loneliness, and his unending thirst to create, Tony has the truly unexpected land on his beach. Now Tony must deal with his own problems in order to help the copy of his best friend cope with waking up in a whole new world on top of 70 years in ice.  As an added problem his new companion is a werewolf. Oh the world is ending. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.- John Dryden

**Author's Note:**

> So So sorry that I disappeared for months. I was literally living out of my car and I moved twice as well as finding and starting a new job. To top it all off this thing (which I occasionally and affectionately call "the beast".) popped in my head and has refused to let me write anything else. So if you're here because you read and liked the other stuff I was working on, and will go back to, I'm sorry this thing happened and it won't let me stop. Please bear with this fic is already 43,000 plus words and I'm pretty sure I'm not even half way done. 
> 
> Thanks ever so for your love and patients. 
> 
> Note: 4/19/15  
> Please see the last chapter of this fic for update.  
> This chapter has been revamped. Now I'm off to overhaul chapter 2

Tony hasn’t seen an actual living human being in 121 weeks, four days, fifteen hours, six minutes and 49 seconds (roughly 2.3316849366132812449 years.) when the anomaly occurs. It’s either irony or coincidence that his last glimpse of humanity had been of Steve Rogers. He’d caught it, the grim look that haunted his dreams most nights, as Maria flew herself and his, once upon a time, best friend back to New York. According to the sentencing it was theoretically the last time he’d ever lay eyes on another living person. Tony had been, perversely, grateful at first that Steve’s stony expression was the last human visage he was to look upon however that feeling had faded in the first sixteen months.  

  


Nowadays Tony sees pretty much everyone out of the corner of his eye if they aren’t standing blatantly before him. They tell him things, keeping track of the facts, not always at the forefront of his mind for him. For example it’s Vision who informs him of the accurate passage of time. He admits, to himself because there’s not a real person here to admit things to, that he’s gone a little crazy. Baking in the hot sun more often than he should by spending hours looking at the horizon, instead of in the comforting shade of his home, could have done that on its own. He knows sunstroke has little to do with his addled mind though, he’s not that deluded. The poet John Dryden claimed that, “Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.” Tony’s read a few studies that back up that claim. Yet his manufactured genius alone is not to blame, nor is head trauma, depleted cortisol, or the crushing guilt. It’s likely everything put together along with that fact that part of Tony just surrendered in order to survive.

  


The once Iron Avenger blames his psychosis for what he is seeing now. It’s impossible although possibly less so than some of the things he’s experienced when he was with the Avengers. It is still highly improbable. He’s hallucinating again he’s certain although this is certainly a new twist to an old tale and more vivid than any hallucination he’s had since Extremis was disabled. The chilly breeze that brushes against his bronzed skin is a rather nice touch, makes it seem more tangible. Tony both wants to and is petrified at the very idea of touching the impossibility in front of him. Once upon a time that fear would have made him reach out but it’s the hope that makes him turn around and stalk back into the jungle.

  


For the next two days he ignores the impossible as he breaks down, repairs, and upgrades random items he’s cobbled together to make this prison that he calls “destiny” on his good days and “home” on his bad ones, livable. The third day he double-checks his stores and starts preparing more, after all he might break his leg again which makes hunting strenuous, extra food is always good. The fourth day he wakes before the sun to a loud crack that startles all the birds into a cacophony of noise.

  


The iceberg that inexplicably was just there on his beach a few days ago it still there. It’s smaller now that it's had nearly 90 hours on an island located somewhere above 15 degrees north or the equator. The great chunk of it that has quite recently broken off and fallen into the sea doesn’t make it less imposing. In the dark the cold mass is a menacing crag of white that almost seems to glow in the star light. It might just be the still noisy birds but Tony could almost swear he hears howling. Mildly disturbed but mostly entranced Tony settles on the beach alone and watches as more and more ice breaks off.

  


When the sun climbs high enough in the sky that Tony should be finding shade to prevent getting sunstroke, again, a large portion of glacier breaks. The ice tumbles away revealing the dark gray tip of something that is still mostly a blurry aircraft like shape in the ice. Fascinated the marooned Avenger rises to his feet, ignoring the way his body creaks in protest, and staggers closer for further inspection.

  


The protrusion is too high up to reach without climbing so he sets himself to that task.  The iceberg is jarringly cold and the sensation so foreign it nearly triggers a flight response, but he pulls himself up it. Tony’s just able to reach out and touch the cold hard metal of what he suspects is the tail of the aircraft when the ice under his right foot breaks away. His grip, delicate to begin with, slips and though he scrambles for balance the ice under his fingers proves too porous to support him. He falls a dozen feet to land in ice chunks and freezing cold sand. Panting, Tony just lays there for a moment enjoying the rush of adrenalin he hasn’t felt in this capacity for months. He’s tried not to think of himself as an adrenalin junky in the past but the burning desire that makes him want to do it again tells him that it was only another self deception.

  


Tony’s hand is bleeding now and he knows better than to let it go untended, Pepper will scold him. She’s already pointing him toward “home” with one fist on the swell of her hip. He stands and trudges back to his house that was more inspired by Robinson Crusoe than the Swiss Family Robinson. Clint heckles him from the porch swing but Tony doesn’t bother to respond because he’s not in the mood to verbally acknowledge his hallucinations. Fallowing Carol’s suggestion Tony bypasses the water and goes straight for the alcohol that he distilled just for this type of  medicinal purpose. It burns but it’s a warm pain compared to the burning cold of the ice. He pours the liquid over every cut and sets to bandaging himself up, Beast giving helpful commentary rather than a helping hand.

  


Tony spends the better part of what remains of his morning setting himself to rights and eating a late breakfast in the company of Jan. By then the heat of the day has set in so he gives himself a task that can be completed in the shade of his porch rather than out in the direct sunlight. He’s had years of practice making rope now so he indulges Peter with a conversation, Peter can always get him to talk. Tony, ever the dedicated worker once he has a goal in mind, works until it’s too dark to see and Natasha reminds him that he can’t see in the dark.

  


He lights a single lamp and cooks dinner by its dim glow, steadfastly ignoring Jarvis’ proposals that he make dinner. Tony knows better than to let him, last time the butler hadn’t tended the fire and nearly burnt down the house. No Tony does his own cooking now but he will listen to the man when it comes to spices. Dinner is good but Thor won’t eat his portion instead choosing to glare at Tony in stony, cold, silence.

  


Maria is good but quite company on the walk back to the beach, she’ll watch his back while he starts a fire that will keep all the worrisome critters away while he sleeps. He sleeps alone. None but Maria will be there to help him aim if something does decide its brave enough to approach the fire’s light. When she helps he never misses no matter how tired or sick he is. He doesn’t know why she’s the only one who is truly reliable but he suspects that it is because she left him the gun with an extra clip in the first place. He’s only got the six bullets left and the last two can’t be used for anything other than their allotted purpose.

  


Tony dreams. _The genius working in his Stark Tower lab. Steve is a calm shape in the background. He can hear the easy scratch of pencil on paper that tells him Steve is sketching like he used to before Captain America was either too busy or burdened to pick up a graphite stick. Steve’s always overloaded now. Tony’s swamped too, trying to shape and save the future but his tools keep falling out of his hands. It’s frustrating and just as he’s finally got hold of the flat head it melts away._

  


_“Damn it!”_

  


_The sound of pencil tip on paper vanishes. “You know you can’t touch those anymore Tony,” Steve rebukes more gently than expected. “They’re bad for you.”_

  


_“It’s a screwdriver not a martini Steve,” Tony objects even though he somehow knows deep in his bones that Steve is correct._

  


_“It’s going to kill you anyway,” Steve replies his voice a dark whisper in Tony’s ear. His chest is now flush with Tony’s back and Tony is rocked gently with every breath the super soldier takes._

  


_“Not if I watch it,” Tony denies, but he already knows it’s a lie. The screwdriver is already protruding from his chest Recorder 451’s hand still clasped around the hilt._

  


_“I told you,” Steve says and there is sadness and pain in his voice as though he’s been stabbed in the chest too. Tony knows the cold metal has skewered the both of them without having to look. He knows in that omniscient way you know things in your dreams that even if Steve was on the opposite end of the continent he would have been perforated the same moment Tony had._

  


_“Then why didn’t you stop him?” Tony accuses bitterly. He's irrational angry that his death has caused Steve’s own. Steve’s end should never be caused by Tony’s own demise. Didn’t he have safeguards in place for this?_

  


_“I locked up all your tools Tony and I put you in a box, for safe keeping. Remember,” Steve utters sluggishly as he falls away._

  


Tony wakes sobbing.

  


That day there is a great deal more of the aircraft visible. The iceberg is very steadily melting away so Tony sets about making sure the craft will stay on the beach rather than sliding into the sea like another hunk of ice. He knows there is clearly no way it will ever fly again but Tony will be able to use a lot of the material for other things. Finally something other than stone, wood, bone, dirt and bamboo to work with.

  


Pepper reminds him about sunstroke and food before he gets himself in trouble, she’s good like that. While eating Hank points out that Tony should probably start taking the craft apart now and hiding the pieces.

  


“It’s a wonder Steve hasn’t already shown up to cart it off.” Hank mutters in such a manner that Tony suspects that he’s off his medication.

  


“He’s probably too busy with some crisis at the moment to check the satellites or he just doesn’t check them. I’m probably just another painful memory that he doesn’t like to revisit.” Tony replies. “If they were watching me closely someone would have shown up long before now.”

  


Nonetheless Tony starts dismantling the craft as soon as he constructs a way to do so. It takes a couple of days to make a platform he can work with that won’t be taken out by large boulders of ice that periodically fall. The Hydra symbol gives Tony a pause when he first sees it; but he shrugs it off, metal is metal and has no consciousness. He’s all about using the whole buffalo and not looking gift horses in the mouth nowadays anyways.

  


At night, when it’s too dark to work but Tony can’t tolerate the thought of sleep he stays up and sketches out what he’s uncovered for the day. When he’s done it’s going to take several pieces of parchment, more than one quill pen and a great deal of ink, all of which he made back in the first three months of living on this side of the island. Tony hasn’t done this sort of thing in a while and he ruins the first two attempts he starts on before he’s got the hang of working with his archaic pens again.

 

The diagrams will end up with the others, a prize for whoever comes looking for him and only finds a body. There are a great many terrible things in his design chest. He hasn’t destroy them only because they are like a journal of truths he can go back and upon to remind himself why he’s here.

  


It was a good week of solid work before Tony breaches the hull and he nearly gets a freezing cold shower when he does it. A small drop of exceptionally cold water splatters on his hot skin and then Carol is shouting at him to move his ass. He’s barely moved before the torrent of water that had accumulated inside bursts through the seam opening a good sized gap in the process. Tony shouts his thanks to Carol who mockingly salutes him before flying off.

  


Despite the danger he knows there is in entering the craft in its current state, and it’s increasingly less secure hold in the dwindling iceberg, Tony climbs inside. It’s cold, damp, and slippery inside and there’s more than a little ice so Tony’s careful as he makes his way up the somewhat steep slope to where he thinks the cockpit is. He’s not sure how the iceberg got here but for whatever reason it arrived upside down. In a nod to safety he starts tying rope to every decent hand hold he finds as he makes his way and he’s pretty sure it saves his life a few times.

  


There’s too much ice still to reach the cockpit and it’s too dark to make much of anything out. Annoyed he retreats. Once outside he sits and contemplates the aircraft and the remaining iceberg. The craft is too big and his tools far too primitive and shoddy for him to dismantle it quickly enough, it is the only real entertainment he’s had in ages and he’s not going to give up just because it’s impossible. After all for him when has the word “impossible” not been like the red cape to a bull.  While sitting there Tony decides he’s been going around this the wrong side of the right way. A change in his methods is in order so he returns home, makes dinner and starts drafting a solution.

 


	2. When I tell people I was broken I meant it. I was. I was jagged edges that didn’t match up.

Tony takes one final look at his work, it’s good. He lights the fuse before he can change his mind and runs for cover. Peter and Clint huddle behind the rock with him. Clint has his “this is so stupid but it totally looked like too much fun to pass up” face on and Peter is practically vibrating with excitement. When the first explosion breaks what counts as silence on the island the wildlife for miles goes mad. The birds shriek as they, and every other creature that hears the blast, depart like the Hulk is on their tails. Peter pokes his head over the rock a wide grin on his young face, he always looks around the same age he did when Tony first met him. Tony only doesn’t warn him about the second explosion because he summates the spider sense will do that  job, and if it doesn’t, it’s not like Peter is actually real.

  
  


Once everything settles down Tony’s ears are ringing but thankfully not bleeding. He’s certain that all the aquatic, avian, and earthbound wildlife for miles are still running in the opposite direction of the blast. Hell, Namor might show up and complain about the noise disturbance although that is highly unlikely. Tony doubts that Namor is allowed out of his watery domain despite the fact that he wasn’t privy to the outcomes of any of the other Illuminati trials even though he had to testify in each one. Avoiding rumination over the trials is even more reason to get to work right away. 

  
  


When the man who once worked with only the best equipment steps from behind his shelter he surveys the devastation. The glacier is no longer nearly as impressive and great chunks of ice liter the beach like it’s some sort of hazardous modern art gallery.  _ Temporary biodegradable sculptures ,  like Andy Goldsworthy’s work. Pepper found them so intriguing. Although his environmental art was a hell of a lot more round _ _._ The aircraft is almost exactly where he planned for it to end up, if a touch more battered than he intended. It won’t drift out to sea now without the hand of God, or Hulk, shoving it there and the only god Tony really believes in is giving him the silent treatment.

  
  


Tony grins, Clint laughs, and Peter whoops and jumps in the air. Provided Tony squirrels most to the aircraft away before someone comes to investigate he’s going to consider this worth the two bullets he had to sacrifice to make it possible. He basks in his accomplishment for exactly two and half more minutes before he gets to work.

 

(*)

 

Tony forces himself to wait in order to prove to himself, or rather hallucination Pepper, that he does have self-restraint before attempting to breach the cockpit again. For a day and a half he makes no attempt to open the door (for which he will curse himself soundly). It’s a Saturday,  March 19th , although it doesn’t truly matter what day it is because without real people or actual responsibilities both time and dates are rendered insignificant. Honesty the only notable thing about it for Tony is that it’s one of the few, and increasingly becoming extraordinary, days that he can’t see or hear his illusionary friends. One of his quote unquote “good” days.

  
  


Everything is still too quiet,  most of the wildlife having not yet dared to return. Tony makes more noise than usual as he works to compensate. He sings whatever song comes to mind or hums when he’s got something in his mouth. “Diet Mountain Dew” by Lana Del Rey is what he’s crooning while taking apart the wall just outside the cockpit.  He peter’s out  mid chorus as he realizes that if he just removes a few screws he’ll be able to remove the door. His heart seems to stop for a moment before beginning to race as the rest of his body moves without out his conscious control. The screws clatter noisily on the metal floor but Tony isn’t diverted even though he knows he should be taking more care. It’s almost like something is calling to him, he really doesn’t feel wholly himself. 

  
  


Tony hops aside as the door crashes down and water, that’s about the consistency of a slushy or perhaps shaved ice, comes spilling out after it. The cold wakes him and he hisses as the liquid seeps into his hand made boots chilling his feet and insuring discomfort for the remainder of his work day. In his annoyance he almost kicks out at the door but something brightly colored and terribly out of place catches his eye. Tony blinks and stares at the red, white, and blue before, heedless of the cold, he snatches up object still mostly submerged in sludgy water. 

 

As soon as the object is in his hands he nearly throws it down again, not because it’s cold but because of what it is. “No,” he breathes and brushes the last of the stubbornly clinging ice away as if it could wipe away the bright paint job too. The titanium oxide paint stubbornly stays put for the most part with only flecks of red dislodging here and there. The paint appears to be similar in composition to what Steve’s shield had been painted with when the super soldier was first rescued from the ocean by the Avengers. Tony flips the disk over to regard the back and discovers that there are no signs that this shield has ever been broken. The straps even appear exactly like they had when Tony had first gotten a look at them. With some measure of hesitance Tony flicks the shield and listens to the sound and feels the hum of  the vibranium steel alloy.

  
  


Tony swallows thickly, the heavy metallic taste of bile in the back of his throat. He stumbles out of the aircraft, shield still in hand. A few feet away from the craft Tony drops the shield he falls to his hands and knees. He vomits onto the hot sand and continues to retch until there is nothing left in him bring up. Quivering all over he is barely able to keep himself from collapsing into his own sick. 

  
  


The, forcibly retired, avenger sits back on his heels and wipes a trembling hand over his mouth. For a few moments he only breathes in the balmy air before allowing his eyes to fall upon the shield once more. Anger burns through his veins chasing away reason and every other emotion. Jumping to his feet, taking the shield with him, he hurls the discus away toward the trees. Tony isn’t Steve but he does manage to get the thing out of his sight and it does not return. 

  
  


Still too bitter Tony gathers the tools on the beach and stomps his way back to his, currently, rather dismantled house. Tony slams in through the door and dumps the tools on the table. Stupidly angry he pulls out a cup and the decanter of alcohol that he’d actually only distilled to disinfect wounds. He slops some into the bamboo cannikin that is normally used as a water glass and lifts it to his mouth. It burns on contact with his tongue and he can’t even swallow it. Tony spits the vile liquid out before he hurls first the cup and, when it doesn’t break in a satisfying manner, the bottle into the wall. Apparently set on channeling his inner teenager he completely ignores the mess as he flops on the pile of furs that make up his bed for now and glares hatefully at the ceiling. 

  
  


It takes him an indecent amount of time to cool down from his tantrum. He settles into what some writers would refer to as a “black mood” for far too long. Eventually he rises and cleans up the mess he’s made. For today he has no intention of returning to the remains of the aircraft; Tony could use a holiday anyways. 

  
  


It occurs to him as he’s half way through jotting down his updates to the schematics. His brain puts together something that has been nagging him all day because he’s been too distracted by anger and memories to give it due consideration.  Not only is that craft from a time long before he was born but the metals of the outer shell as well as every wall are made of iron with a silver coating. Odd symbols that look like they belong in one of Dr. Strange’s books are on many of the surfaces including hidden ones. His brilliant mind adds in Steve’s shield looking like it had years ago and Tony comes up with magic and alternate realities.  I am an idiot. A damned idiot, who may be suffering from a more grand delusion than normal. If I’m right though then there is little chance that Steve would have left his shield behind.   He heads for the beach at a run hoping that he can make it before the sun completely sets.

  
  


Tony actually can’t imagine any Steve who isn’t disturbingly attached to his shield. The look on Captain America’s face when he presented Steve with the pieces of the broken shield is actually one he will never forget. He isn’t sure this hypothetical alternate universe version of Steve would have gone down inside of an airship but considering it’s a Hydra ship and, in nine worlds out of ten,  Steve would do whatever it took to take down Hydra.

  
  


There is only barely still sun in the cloudless sky when Tony’s bare feet, he’d taken off his boots so they could dry, slap against the cold metal. His pulse is pounding in his ears and his breath coming out in heavy gasps as he slides to a halt next to the pilot seat.

  
  


If there had been enough air in his lungs he might have screamed at the sight that greeted him. The cadaver sitting in the chair looks like it’s been beaten to several different kinds of hell. The costume is in tatters and the cowl is hanging on only because this man has been entombed by frozen water for god knows how long. His skin is practically all one dark ugly black mass, broken in places revealing the congealed blood and dead frostbitten muscle. Once upon a time this man might have been as muscular as Steve but although he’s still likely got the height over half the muscle mass is gone. Tony thinks the most horrible aspect of the sight is the fact that this Steve had been frozen with his eyes open. The azure blue is surrounded by the obscene red of far too many burst blood vessels. Tony wishes he could close the blackened eyelids but he doesn’t like his chances of keeping them attached to the rest of the body. 

  
  


He feels like he’s going to be sick for the second time today. Despite the metallic taste at the back of his mouth he manages to keep his supper down. Had this world’s Steve Rogers ever looked this bad? He’d been frozen too and time and coincidence sent him adrift to marginally warmer waters where the avengers had found him. How long had this reality’s Steve been drifting before they stumbled across him? Was it long enough to heal this much damage? Tony has seen mummified corpses in museums that looked more likely to get up and walk than this carcass.

  
  


Tentatively Tony reaches out to place his fingers against the pulse point of this other Captain America’s neck and leaves it against the hard, cold, skin for a full twenty seconds. There’s no pulse that he can feel,  not even one he can pretend is there. Whoever this Captain America was he’s dead and the miracle that had kept his Steve alive apparently hadn’t been extended to his counterpart.

  
  


_ Don’t be a wimp, stop crying. This isn’t your Cap. This isn’t  the  friend you had for years. He isn’t even the one you let down or were betrayed by. This isn’t the man you left you to rot on this island. This Captain America is dead and some other Tony will never know what it’s like to laugh with him, fight alongside him, or fight with him. That Tony  is never going to know what it’s like to hear his battle cry or see his fist getting larger before it connects.  He won’t know what it’s like to lose him or hate him. God whoever that Tony is he’s one lucky bastard. _

  
  


As it occurs to him how maudlin he is becoming Tony determinedly shakes himself and bushes away any stray tears he might have shed. This Captain America had been a hero no doubt and he deserved to be laid to rest like one. If nothing else he needed to be gotten out of the pilot seat before he finished thawing out and began to putrefy. Before he can lose any more light he peels the stiff out of the chair. It’s not easy to detach him from the seat and the frozen corpse is heavy although not as heavy as Steve probably was when he was frozen. It’s too impractical to try and carry the soldier so Tony drags the solid corpse and fails not to flinch every time it bumps into anything.

  
  


Tony drags the corpse into the waning light and pauses in order to contemplate digging a grave versus cremation. Both will take effort and Tony, already sweating, dreads the thought of waiting till dawn to finish the job. Any type of sea burial is out of the question due to lack of resources. Namor isn’t exactly taking Tony’s calls at the moment and Tony’s not sure how far diplomatic immunity got the leader of Atlantis in the Illuminati Trials. Tony’s not sure if he could do it to this Steve anyways. To bury a man who had died in agony under the water, if his face is any indication, putting him back under it just feels wrong. This Captain America was probably meant to be buried in Arlington but Tony can’t get him there either. He doesn’t exactly relish the idea of Steve’s grave sitting around on his island. This island is for the damned not for someone like Steve, this or any other one.  How can I still think of  him as a hero? Burning then, nothing can dig up America’s hero after that.

  
  


With a decision made Tony sets to making a fire from the wood that has gathered on the beach big enough to ward off animals during the night. He considers gathering more wood from his stores at home to make a funeral pyre that will burn hot enough to burn the corpse down to ash. Upon returning home he discovers that there is actually not enough wood accumulated for that type of fire and Tony’s not fool enough to scrounge up more in the dark forest despite the light from the waxing gibbous moon.

  
  


Defeated for now Tony takes a small load of the oldest of the furs, his lamp, his knife, and the gun down to the beach to keep watch over the body. He covers the corpse with a few of the furs and sits down on the others. It would likely smell better in the morning if Tony had actually chosen to leave the body propped up next to the remains of the glacier but Tony isn’t willing to rest too close to it. With the lit lamp in between them and the fire less than ten feet away Tony finely feels secure enough to relax a little. 

  
  


Tony sits there in the increasing dark without speaking for about half an hour. There has been too much silence today so words find their way out of his mouth eventually. “So hi my name is Anthony Edward Stark,”  and i have been sober for…. way to sound like you actually miss your AA meetings Stark. Then again I am talking to a corpse. Is this more or less screwed up then talking to my hallucinations?Guess I’ll know if he talks back. “I’m the son of Howard and Maria Stark but modified prior to birth by a defective super robot named 451 to be a dick and a genius weapons inventor to boot. I know, it sounds like something to crazy too even be in one of your science fiction novels. Well I’m assuming you were into science fictions novels like my, well this world’s, Cap is. For all I know you actually preferred chemistry textbooks and wrote musicals in your down time. You’re from another world, I’m pretty sure, one where you were frozen inside an aircraft rather than just falling into the sea. This world’s Captain America froze too but thawed out later and was just fine.”

  
  


“Sorry you weren’t so lucky but considering where you landed and your current company maybe you really were. You’re done finally, at rest. I’m sorry that you won’t get to wake up and see the future you fought for but maybe it’s better for you this way. A lot of shitty thing have happened since you died. I could spend a couple of days just recounting you all the crap that’s happened from the time you went down until 2013. After 2013 though you’re out of luck I don’t even know how Thanksgiving went for the rest of the world that year. I’ll bet you a steak dinner Doom attacked—not that you would know who that maniac is.”

  
  


Tony sighs and looks up at the stars, “I’ve been imprisoned on this island for over two years now almost two and a half.  Why was I imprisoned? Well you’re keeping company with a man who’s built a device that obliterated another Earth to save this one—that’s the cheap answer. I’m responsible for so many deaths and so much pain. Part of me knows I deserve to be here, most of me thinks I deserve to be somewhere worse than here but it’s not my choice really. I can’t die yet, although I haven’t given up wanting to most days. I have to keep building, improving; I have to save the world. I’m hard wired that way—literally—programed to build monstrous things to save to world. I don’t get to say “no, I won’t cross that line”. Is there a line I can’t cross?” The last question is something he desperately wants to know the answer to. Once upon a time he thought he knew the answer . 

  
  


Tony’s thoughts feel scattered, like his mind is skipping tracks and his eyes feel very  heavy. It has been such a roller-coaster day emotionally and he’s not as young as he used to be. He closes his eyes for a moment trying to soothe the burn he feels. Unable to help it he listens to the ocean, the crackling fire, the wind through the trees, and the creatures who think that it’s grand to make noise at night. This paradise for most is hell for a man designed to build salvation through technology and destruction.

 

“So you,” Tony hisses out a breath before he picks up the narrative again to distract himself from the peace, “the other you—sorry, I know it’s confusing when there are two of you. Anyways, the you—who was supposed to be my best friend in this world— decided I’m too dangerous to be around regular people. That I was wrong,” Tony yawns and leans back, propping himself up on his elbows.  “Even though I saved the planet and I always made the choice that I knew would save the most people—save my friends. He didn’t, doesn’t, understand that I never really had a choice. He doesn’t believe it. I don’t know if that means he believes I have the will to overcome my programing and I just chose not too or if he thinks I lied about the whole thing when I told him about it.” 

  
  


Tony lets out a sharp short bark of laughter in an attempt to make light of the pain that has not managed to dull even after all this time.  _ When did Steve really stop believing in me ? Probably just before he decided to buy an island for the next time I got to out of hand. _  “He left me here with the clothes on my back and a couple of crates.”  One crate was entirely books, sort of a farewell present from people I thought of as my friends. Maybe I’m being too hard on them for not standing up for me. Maybe what we did shocked them all speechless.” 

  
  


“They should all have had enough sense between them to know that locking me up here leaves the planet vulnerable to what’s coming-” Tony yawns again and shifts to his side where he can see the furs covering the body. “The threat my friends can’t face but I was built to stop. I’m not even sure I can stop it or could have stopped it. . . . The coding inside me is . . .  not right any more . . .  died too many times maybe. . . . that assimilated younger version of me . . . degraded the code . . .  I couldn’t pilot the Godkiller. . . .  Extremis didn’t help, I rewrote too much of the program. . . . I think I did it wrong.”

  
  


He shouldn’t have closed his eyes, they don’t want to open now so he tries to keep his mouth moving. He words are almost slurring with exhaustion, “Without the work . . .  my mind can’t hold together. It shatters . . . this is the most lucid I’ve been in a long while. . . . I never see him . . . unless I’m dreaming. . . . My dreams, mostly nightmares. . . I hate him for not understanding . . . and for not stopping me . . . some other way. . . .  Rather he ‘ad killed me outright then this. Slowly . . . losing my mind. . . . I’d forgive him for killing me. . . . If he’d wrapped his hands around my neck . . . pretty sure I wouldn’t even fight.” Hadn’t he always forgiven Steve. Back, just before Steve had taken him into custody, Tony was sure the other man would, if the look in his eyes was any indication, kill Tony. Tony remembered feeling almost relieved, a strange sense of peace. 

 

“There’s a bullet in my gun,” He taps the sidearm on the barrel where it lays on top of the underside of a rabbit pelt. The safety is on and it won’t go off if he accidentally rolls on it in his sleep. “With his name carved on it . . . it’s right before mine. . . . going to get it too . . . ’m not sure if it’ll be in the knee cap . . . or the head. Know where mine’s going. . . . I destroy everything I love . . . he doesn’ get to be exempt.” His speech is more a ramble now with more and more slurs and the pauses growing in length. “There were a lot more . . . bullets . . . to begin . . . Maria left me the gun . . . Steve didn’t know. . . . He wouldn’t leave me with a gun. . . . 24 bullets . . . carved a name . . .  on all of ‘em. . . . Decided they were . . .  forgiveness. . . . It’s therapeutic. . . . I use a bullet . . . and I consider . . . ‘em forgiven . . . for letting Steve . . . leave me to rot. . . . It makes me . . .  use them sparingly. . . . I used two to . . . get into that aircraft. - must have been feeling . . . extra forgiving.”

 

Just before he fully surrenders to slumber he mumbles out, “Four bullets left . . . I’ll have to . . .  invent myself . . . off this . . . islan-.” 

 

(*)

 

Tony rouses to a noise he at first can’t identify as anything other than alarming and out of the ordinary. He’s in a crouch with the gun in his hand before he can fully process that the noise is coming from under the furs. Irritated, and sadly not too tired not to imagine that some animal has decided to make a snack of the dead pile of flesh and bones, he kicks the furs aside to look at the body. It looks just as gruesome, possibly more so, as the night before although slightly less dead. The unblinking eyes are wet and the sound that woke him is escaping from the frozen jaw. Tony reaches out placing his fingers to skin that is still too cold and hard but actually has give. He waits rather longer than he should have bothered to but there is definitely a faint sluggish beat.

  
  


“You will never stop surprising me Captain Rogers,” Tony tells the apparently not completely dead man and pulls his fingers away from the darkened skin.

  
  


Tony sets about rekindling the fire that has burned down to coals and drags the man as close as he dares. He piles the furs back on top of him, although he leaves the mouth and nose uncovered this time, before returning to his house. Tony still has the tent that was left with him when he was first abandoned on this island. It’s been modified extensively and is now closer to a tepee in design.  Although the tent is in disrepair, he drags it and more furs with him to the beach where the frozen man is still screaming. He makes a bed of the furs and drags the man on top of them before putting more furs on top of him. 

  
  


Tony sets up the tent around them with the hole in the roof directly above the fire so that he won’t suffocate. He goes outside to relieve himself then returns to the tent. The knife he brought with him the night before is still with him so to he sets to cutting the man out of his clothes, which doesn’t take much because they were already in tatters. Tony tosses the rags out the door way before taking off his own clothes. He doesn’t let himself think about the blackened skin, the blisters, or the cracks in it that are starting to ooze. Nor does he let himself think about the fact that this could all be a vivid tactile and auditory hallucination and that he is actually about to be spooning a corpse. He crawls under the furs with the man and holds on as tightly as he can force himself to. It’s cold and uncomfortable until the heat and the moisture in the air makes him grateful for the frozen popsicle that is some other worlds Captain America.

  
  


The man doesn’t really ever stop screaming but sometimes it dies down to what can be described as a gurgled whimper. Tony has to get up several more times to add wood to the fire and move the uncomfortably damp furs outdoors to dry. Part way through the day Tony actually shuts the man’s eyelids and leaves him in the tent while Tony himself gets food, water, and bucket bath.

  
  


Tony brings a bucket of water back and cleans up the blonde the best he can. The smell of rot is getting stronger which makes Tony regret his meal. He carefully avoids the eyelids while trying to clean the blond up. Layers of skin have peeled away from his face, neck, hands, feet, and in patches on his arms and legs where there had clearly been damage to his suit before he was frozen. Exposed new muscle and sinew are being created in front of his very eyes.  _ Steve can’t heal this fast.  _  It would be fascinating to watch if it weren’t so nauseating. 

  
  


Tony is sure to resettle the living corpse on the scraped side of the furs He sees no need to add fur to the list of things the serum or whatever powers the healing factor this Captain America has, is having to deal with. After he tosses out the bucket of filthy water, and thoroughly rinses it, it Tony walks to his hut to find another clean bucket. He fills it with drinkable water and a ladle. He returns again to the tent but can’t make himself get under the furs next to a man this time so he tends the fire religiously.

  
  


It takes numerous long hours but eventually the screaming peters out. From his position, seated beside the man, he slides a hand under the furs and places it just over the heart. He can feel the chest moving with the shallow breaths that other man takes while the heart beats steadily. Tony thinks that this other Steve Rogers must have fallen asleep, finely. 

  
  


He switches out the furs once more and examines the body in the fire light and what little light remains from the setting sun reaching in through the holes in the tent walls. There’s no more exposed muscle and all the skin on the body is either dark enough to look black or pale enough that Tony knows it’s new. Tony drinks a ladle full of water and crawls under the furs this time. Again he carefully puts his arms around the other man and starts calculating the next digit of pi through the pounding headache he’s had practically all day. Apparently someone out there with power pities him because Tony falls asleep and doesn’t dream at all.


	3. I’m a mess and you’re a mess, together we make a disaster. A mess plus a mess never does a clean room make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Tony’s not sure how long he’s slept for, but when he wakes up he’s still got the other Captain America in his arms though the blond isn’t in the same tightly held position. There’s a damp mess of hair under his chin and a nose pressed into his clavicle, puffing warm, moist air against his skin. An arm is wrapped around him, holding him tightly and there’s warm flesh everywhere. Tony’s mildly surprised he didn’t wake up when the man was twisting around. Carefully he tries to wriggle away because the fire has burnt down to coals and he needs to put on more wood. The blond lets out a low keening noise and it's a gut wrenching sound that obliges Tony’s muscles to lock up and force him still.

 

Breathing deeply, Tony makes himself relax and let’s go of the other man, although he knows it will be no good if he can’t get the blond to let go of him. Pushing at the arms doesn’t get him anywhere and out right struggling results in more heart rending whimpers and nearly being crushed. Tony huffs out a sigh and decides to go for a gentler approach used on the extra clingy one night stands in the past. Ignoring the fact that his hands are trembling, he cards the fingers of one hand through the damp hair and the other down the man’s spine.

 

“Captain,” No that’s only making him tense more. “Steve…n” He can’t bring himself to call this man Steve, although that’s probably his name. It's too excruciating for himself right now. “Steven,” He starts again and keeps up his petting. Tony repeats the name again and again until the other man has stopped whimpering and has relaxed marginally. “Steven I’m not sure how much you’re digesting right now, probably not a lot or you wouldn’t be using me as a teddy bear, but you need to let me go. I need to get the fire going again to keep you warm.” There’s another whine and the body presses closer. “Right, yes, I know your body probably feels like it's on fire in some ways or maybe you feel like you’ll never be warm again, but you need to stay warm, so fire. I’ve got to pee, too.” The last sentence is more of a whine but he really does need to go. “Let me go Steven. Please let me go, I’ll come back, just let me go.”

 

The Captain doesn’t move his arms but eventually, with continued petting and softly murmured assurances, his grip slackens and Tony slips out of his embrace. The first thing he does is go outside and relieve himself. He really must have slept for a while because this is predawn light, not late evening light. Tony returns inside to stoke the fire but the mostly thawed American icon is shaking and making a low keening noise. He considers crawling back under the covers to stop the pathetic sounds but his stomach rumbles. A short trip back to his house and he’s got what he needs to make a meal for himself and broth for a man he’s not sure will be up for eating it any time soon.

 

He ends up pushing some of the broth into the man’s mouth later that morning. The Captain chokes and the muscles of his stomach clench and Tony more than half expects to be vomited on so he moves the bowl and positions the man on his side. He is thrown up on, but the contents of the man’s stomach appears to be mostly blood and it only splatters on his knees and the sand. In the dim light he can make out the sweat on skin that is still too dark as the man gasps for breath between heaves. Unable to stop himself, Tony pets and soothes Steven like he remembers his mother doing when he was quite young and got the flu or the one time he had the chicken pox. He can’t imagine his Steve this vulnerable or acting like this. Then again he’s never seen Steve in a state quite like this. Tony’s not sure this man even knows himself or if he has any memories of being frozen. Whatever this man went through was not what his Steve had, not that his Steve was really ever his at all.

 

The blond falls asleep again and Tony takes the opportunity to clean up. He works outside on the plane for most of the day, only taking breaks to check on the other man. Part of him feels a little guilty at leaving the man alone but Tony’s not been touched by another human being for a long time now and once this Steve feels like a person again he won’t want anything to do with Tony. Really, it's an ounce of prevention to save himself a five gallon bucket of pain.

 

He rationalizes his distance. The man doesn’t actually need the extra body heat so desperately anymore. Tony needs to finish dismantling the aircraft. Really, he’s saving this Captain more mortification when he’s feeling better. Getting thrown up on is gross and he’d rather not have to deal with that again. The tent stinks. They're all trifling facts that just make Tony feel like a heel when he goes in to check later in the evening and finds the blond croaking out hoarse, desperate pleas and cradling his hand.

 

“Shit,” Tony says noticing the fire has been disturbed and he rushes to the man, reaching out before he can think better of it. The blond recoils like he’s touched molten steel, panic clear on his face though his eyes are unfocused. “Hey, calm down I’m trying to help,” Not that that doesn’t always seem to come back to bite him in the ass.

 

The captain flinches at his voice at first but then he shifts forward and noticeably sniffs the air close to Tony. Both eyebrows raise at this and Tony’s only more surprised when the blond instantly relaxes. “Okay,” Tony says drawing out the second syllable.

 

<“You were gone,”> The man croaks accusingly in French and he leans forward to bury his face in Tony neck.

 

Tony lets out a surprised huff of air then replies, <”I know, I had work to do”> In French as well. Why the hell is Captain America speaking French to him and not English? Does he have brain damage? Well he must. You can’t suffer that much oxygen deprivations and not have brain damage.

 

The other man moves closer to Tony, actually snuggling closer, though it’s hard to think the word with anything remotely Steve-like in the room. It's the only one to use for what the other man is doing, <”You’re American.”>

 

<“Um, yeah, what did you think I was?”> Huffs Tony and he reaches carefully for the hand the other man is still cradling close to his chest.

 

<“Australian,”> Replies the man and he whines again when Tony touches the back of his hand. <“Hurts.”>

 

<”I know, but I’m going to have to get a look at it and clean it,”> Tony says. <“And I don’t sound anything like an Australian. My accent is flawless, how do you know I’m not actually French?”>

 

<”Hurts,”> the other man whimpers pitifully in response and allows Tony take his hand. Tony has the feeling the blonde’s using the statement as a distraction so he won’t have to answer the question.

 

Tony hisses when he sees the skin of the blonde’s palm. <”Bruised and freezer burnt over your entire body and third degree burns on your hand. If I were a believing man I’d ask what you did to piss off god so much. Lucky for you I’m an … well, it’s hard to call yourself an Atheist when you’ve literally fought alongside and against actual gods. Anyways, your hands pretty messed up I’m going to have to get you outside to clean it. The light in here isn’t good enough.”>

 

<“Light?”> The man says and actually removes his head from Tony’s neck. <”There’s light in here?”>

 

<”Well there’s a fire in here, so yeah there’s light. And my RTs kind of bright too,”> Tony says, before he looks at the blonde’s entirely too unfocused eyes and curses. <“You’re blind.”> He doesn’t need the slow nod to know he is right. <“Okay right, hold on to me. I’m going to get you out side.”>

 

Helping the freshly defrosted man outdoors is similar to helping a drunken man walk, only with slightly better coordination. Once outside, Tony sets Steve on a warm patch of sand, <“I’m going to get water and see what I can find to clean that up and bandage it.”>

 

If the grip is any indication, Captain America is not a fan of this plan but he lets Tony go anyways after a moment. “All right,” The English is hesitant on this man’s tongue and is actually slightly tinged with a British accent.

 

Tony, though confused, turns and goes to the tent and returns with the bucket of water, placing it next the foreign super soldier’s thigh, <“Here’s some water. I’m not sure if you want to try drinking it but if you do go slow. I don’t want you making yourself sick.”> He gets a slow nod in response and then he leaves to go find what he can to patch up a wrecked hand.

 

When he returns with his supplies the man is drinking water far more quickly than is wise, although he’s managed to spill quite a lot of it on himself. Tony sighs and sets what passes for his medical kit on the ground next to the man, <“For a guy for was vomiting up blood this morning you’re going at that with an abnormal amount of gusto, Rogers.”>

 

The man chokes and coughs fitfully. Tony, nonplused, takes the damaged hand and gets to work. <”You know my name?”>

 

<”You’re Captain America. You have comic books, trading cards, and a statue in Arlington. Of course I know your name.”> Tony replies. <“Or, well, the Captain America of this world does.”>

 

<“This world?”> The man quarries then cries out when Tony pores alcohol over the damaged skin.

 

<”Sorry, probably should have warned you,”> Tony says. Naked, black, blue, and blond whimpers pitifully. <”I hate to break it to you, but not only have you spent a really long time as a popsicle, you’ve been dumped into another reality. One where Americans speak bad English as their primary language, by the way, and superheroes are always busy saving to world.”>

 

<”English,”> He doesn’t sound like he believes Tony entirely or he thinks Tony is speaking blasphemy.

 

<“Bad English”> Tony emphasizes as he works. <“The type that lurks in dark alleys, beats up other languages then rifles through their pockets for spare vocabulary.”> *

 

The laugh that this statement gets starts out as a snort and ends as a scratchy chuckle, <”America sounds like a despot.”>

 

Tony shrugs without thinking about the fact that this man actually can’t see him, <”It’s possible I’m jaded, but that was a quote. Don't remember who said it first though.”>

 

The blonde nods his acceptance, his mouth set in a thin line and his other hand clenched. His breathing is a little harsh though, which could mean he’s trying not to vomit or he’s trying not to cry out. <”Almost done, Captain. There's not a lot I can do to help you out other than clean this and wrap it up. We’re on an island and I don’t have a way to get you help, so sorry about that. If you're breathing like that because you don’t want to puke, all I can say is I warned you about drinking too fast.”>

 

<“Not going to be sick. Stomachs… empty.”> The speech is said though gritted teeth and Tony is fairly certain he’s actually a shade paler.

 

<“Well if you think you’re up for it later I’ve got some broth for you,”> Tony starts wrapping up the hand with what was once his shirt but was long ago repurposed.

 

<“Thank you…”> His head is tilted to the sided now and he asks <“Name?”>

 

<”Tony,”> Tony says. <“Don’t bother with formalities, there’s only me out here and I won’t appreciate them.”>

 

He nods shortly in acceptance, <“Steve.”>

 

<“No,”> Tony says bluntly, as panic, anger, and despair well up in him. <“I’ll call you Steven, or Grant if you want, but I can’t call you … that.”>

 

The blond looks like he wants to ask why but doesn’t. When Tony’s done wrapping up his hand he moves to stand and the other man reaches to catch his hand and ends up with his wrist. <“Steven,”> he pronounces.

 

Tony swallows the lump in his throat. He finds that he can’t help but wonder how this man can trust him so much when Tony hasn't given him a whole lot of reason. <”Okay”> he acknowledges. <”I’m going to get you back inside, you need to be resting.”> He tries not to think of how much he sounds like a mother hen.

 

Steven is slightly more coordinated this time but they still move at a shuffling pace. The blond wrinkles his nose when they enter the tent and Tony has to admit it does stink. The scent of sweet, sick rot, damp fur, and smoke is heavy in the air. <”Hey, tomorrow I’ll move you to my house if you’re feeling up to it.”> Steven half smiles and settles in the furs easily enough. Tony deduces soldiers really can sleep anywhere. Tony's stomach, which he has ignored since breakfast, chooses to complain loudly. Steven arched an eyebrow. <”Guess that it’s time to make dinner. Try to sleep and I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”>

 

Steven isn’t asleep by the time Tony returns himself already fed, with a bowl of broth for the recuperating super soldier. <”Do you feel up to eating?”> He inquires as he settles next to him. <”Well, it’s just broth so it’s more like drinking. I know you heal fast but I’d rather not have another replay of this morning.”>

 

Steven visibly braces before forcing himself into a sitting position. It obviously hurts and Tony wonders how long it will take the super solider to regenerate so much dead tissue and regrow more muscle. How many days until this man’s skin isn’t black with bruising and rot? How many more before he can see again? When will he stop needing Tony and abandon him? Will he get so desperate to be free of him that he just swims away?

 

<”Tony,”> A question, and the hand that’s reaching in his vague direction shakes.

 

Tony takes the hand and places it around the warm bowl, lets him feel it, then asks, <”Are you going to need me to help you? You look like you're about to fall over.”>

 

Steven grimaces, <"You're not wrong.”> He looks put out by even having to admit that.

 

<“Well I can sit behind you to prop you up if you think that will help.”> Tony offers. Steven nods looking a little relieved. <”Don’t move then,”> Tony says and guides Steven’s hand with the bowl clasped in it to his fur covered lap. He moves to sit behind Steven and settles himself so that the other man’s back is flush with his chest. The shoulder that lays just above the RT shifts as if he is trying to get a feel for the odd shape with his back but he doesn’t ask about it and Tony doesn’t offer any information. Once Steven seems confident that Tony can hold him up he relaxes, nearly boneless, against him. Tony gives him about a minute to rest then prompts, <“So you need me to grab the bowl too?”>

 

Steven shakes his head, <”No.”> He uses both hands to cradle the bowl and bring it up. There’s still a tremor but it’s manageable. Steven consumes the contents of the bowl then asks if he can have some water soon. Tony offers to get it then but is rebuffed by a sleepy mumble of, <“Don’t want you to move yet.”>

 

Tony huffs something along the lines of “glorified pillow” in English but Steven has already fallen asleep. When Tony tries to get up to put more wood on the fire and get some fresh air the blond wakes before he’s moved a foot away. He’d like to pretend he can’t hear the raspy plea of “come back” but he can’t. He's not that much of a dick.

 

<“Water,”> he says and goes to fetch some before returning to Steven’s side. Steven does drink some of the water and Tony does as well because he knows he needs it. He sets the bucket aside and is about to add more wood to the fire when the man catches him and tugs gently. After a small hesitation he gives in and settles under the furs next to Steven. Vaguely, he wonders if this world’s Captain America is this cuddly with his girlfriends or any one at all.

 

The next day he’s able to get Steven back to his house where the man collapses in what remains of Tony’s bed. He sleeps like the dead for hours and Tony able to clean up the camp and bring what remains of the wood back to the house. Steven’s still asleep after that, so Tony goes to wash himself up. He makes Steven more broth before waking him up to get him to drink it. Once finished with his meal, Steven pulls Tony to him like he’s a well-loved toy and falls back asleep. Tony groans in annoyance but is grateful that he’s on top of the furs this time because Steven is giving off an unreasonable amount of heat. The next day Steven is less black although there are patches of new pink skin as well as patches of green and brown that Tony associates with healing bruises.

 

Unfortunately, Steven’s also running a high and unrelenting fever. He sobs and cries out things in French that makes Tony grateful for his own nightmares. Tony’s got bruises from Steven clinging to him and a hole in his wall, on top of what he suspects is a concussion, from when Tony was confused for the enemy. After that incident Tony’s a lot more careful and only gets as close as he has to when he has to.

 

By the time the fever breaks Tony’s on speaking terms with Thor, the hallucinations having returned with the knock to his head. Tony doesn’t like to talk to them when Steven’s awake though, which upsets Peter. Eventually Steven becomes more lucid and looks better while eating like he hasn’t eaten in in decades. His blue eyes are still sightless but he snatches Tony’s wrist and pulls him into bed with him like he has some sort of Tony locator. Tony’s been awake for far too long, having had to stay awake to take care of Steven and to avoid never waking up again because of the head wound. It doesn’t matter to him that its midday, he falls asleep more quickly than even Steven does.

 

Tony wakes to Steven jerking violently against him which makes Tony roll away quickly before standing up. It’s dark but not as dark as it could be considering the full moon light that is drifting thought the windows. Tony moves to light a lamp anyways because the sounds Steven is making are inhuman. The added light falls on Steven who's acting like he’s suffering from either a seizure or incredible pain. It appears as though there is something moving beneath his skin. There are ominous popping and wet ripping sounds as well.

 

<“Steven!"> Tony hears himself shouting in alarm. The other man’s eyes snap open and though the blue eyes seem to shine with some unnatural light them, for the first time, they focus on Tony.

 

<“Run, Tony,”> Steven orders. It’s the type of commanding tone that lets Tony know that if he stays he’ll end up dead in a rather unpleasant manner. Tony, not actually suicidal today, collects Maria and the gun and is out the door just as Steven bellows, <”Run!"> With enough force that it seems to shake the remains of his house.

 

Tony gallops toward the beach and doesn’t stop until he hears the howl of a wolf. The surprise at the sound trips him up and he is ridiculously grateful he still has the safety engaged on the gun. He’s stunned by the howl that seems to go on forever. “There are no wolves on this island,” Tony says aloud, dumbly. He’s been everywhere it is possible for a human to go on this island and he knows there are very large felines and several other dangerous and unpleasant things, but not wolves.

 

“That doesn’t change the fact there is one now Stark. Move it!” Maria barks, command and inpatients written in the cut of her posture. Always full of obvious, if useful, advice, his Hill, and he knows she’s right. Tony doesn’t waste time, simply lurching to his feet and resumes running.

 

Tony knows a half an hour in he’s been a fool in more ways than one. He shouldn’t have gone to the beach. He should have gone deeper into the island where there would be other prey. Could have climbed the tallest tree in the jungle, since he doesn’t think wolves are very efficient climbers, and stayed treed, but safe, until the world made some sort of sense. Hell, he could have taken to the sea and swam far enough to not worry about a scent trail. He could have found a hiding place till dawn when he could make and enact a more tactical plan of attack. Tony could have realized sooner that he was being hunted. He should have accounted for the fact that four legs are so much faster than two, even when the two legged one has the advantage of knowing the terrain like the back of his own scarred hand.

 

The wolf is too fast for a beast of its size, weighing nearly two hundred pounds. It looks malnourished and is larger than those dogs used for hunting lions. It’s gotten Tony face down in the sand before the old Avenger even knows the creature is there. The teeth are sharp, burning spots of pain in his shoulder even before the wolf decides to shake. A scream slams its way out of his mouth because his shoulder feels like it’s being branded.

 

Tony knows how to fight through pain even though he’s out of practice. The creature is strong but Tony trained with and faced beings that are stronger then him. Tony moves and throws the wolf off balance, so much so that it has to let go or risk being in a worse position than what Tony started in. The wolf releases him, darting back a few paces then readies to spring at him. Tony has flicked the safety off the gun, raised it and fired before the beast can clamp its jaws on him again. It lands on top of Tony with half of its head missing.

 

Tony squirms out from under it and stands shakily to his feet. He looks at it, the single blue eye still in its head looking straight back at him, and Tony stumbles a few meters away to vomit onto the sand. His head feels like it’s going to explode and his shoulder throbs. Sure that this is the reason Steven had told him to run and that the now dead wolf, of course it's dead the chest can’t be moving after that, had been inside the other man.

 

The universe is cruel and has yet again proven that it hates Tony Stark. Tony wishes he could ask it why but he already knows.

 

Tony gets back to his feet and, without another glance at the wolf, trudges back to his house. The house is barely more of a mess then when he left it; the half broken door, fur, blood, and vestiges of skin aside, that is. There’s a ‘thunk’ as the gun hits the floor and Tony stumbles back out to dry heave over the railing of his porch. He can’t stay here. He thinks that he might have to burn here and build a new house on the opposite side of the island no matter how much he hates that side of the island.

 

Blearily he trudges toward the cave he lived in for a while when he decided the make this side of the island his home. The tides won’t fill it this time of the year, but if they do Tony thinks he might just let himself drown.

 

The cave is kind of damp like always but Tony lays down where he used to and wills himself to sleep

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one for this chapter. 
> 
> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/79637682759/chapter-three-stuff-the-problem-with-defending


	4. The great proof of madness is the disproportion of one's designs to one's means.- Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

_Tony dreams of being terrified and hiding under a table as his father, tall and burly, swears at his mother in Gaelic and calls her terrible things. His father hits his mother and he wants it to stop, but his father is strong and his rust color hair reminds him of blood, although it's nowhere near the color that is coming from his mother’s nose. His mother, so strong for all that she is slight, just rises back up and holds her ground. Father eventually tires and leaves, barely remembering to grab his coat to ward off the cold night air in Brooklyn._

_Mama crouches down so she can see him under the table. Her right eye is starting to swell and the blood from her nose has gushed down over her mouth to drip off her chin and onto her high necked dress. She looks like the newly sired vampires the teachers warned him about in school. The smile that she pulls to the surface for him is consoling even though it’s slight. “Come out, Dear,” She calls._

_He launches himself at her, wrapping his short, thin arms around her neck and holding on as hard as he can. Someday Papa might not let her get up so he can give her another punch without having to bend down. Someday Mama might not be there to hold._

_“It’s okay,” Mama lies comfortingly. She has one of her callused hands on the back of his head and the other high on his back._

_“Why…? (Sob) Wh-why didn’t you j-just stay down Mama?” He sobs, his eyes continuing to leak tears like the bad faucet in the school bathroom._

_Mama tugs him away from her enough that she can cup his face in both of her hands so that his blue eyes have to meet hers. He’s so glad he has her hair and her eyes, he wishes everything about him was like her. On the good days, when Papa hasn’t drunk too much and there hasn’t been any shouting for a while, Mama will tell him that he has his father’s smile. He hates that. He wishes he had Mama’s smile, so some days he practices with a bit of mirror he found; He thinks it’s paying off because Mama tells him that less often. Mama smile less often too, though._

_“Because,” Mama says, ignoring the fact that another drop of blood is about to drip off her chin. “And you listen close Steven…”*_

 

Tony wakes with a jolt, feeling chilled to the bone. That was definitely one of the stranger dreams he’s ever had. Hell, it hadn’t much felt like a dream. He could practically still smell the cheap spirits and the blood. Absently he rubs his hand over his eyes and is startled by the wetness there.

 

“You were crying in your sleep dumb ass, the cave isn’t leaking,” Clint says from somewhere to his right.

 

“Shut up Clint,” Tony mutters, lurching to his feet and stumbling out of the cave. There’s so much he needs to do today and he doesn’t want to risk falling asleep again.

 

Tony doesn’t actually want to have to go to the house but most of his tools are there, so he does. He grimaces at the stench and decides to forgo breakfast. Wanda reminds him that he hasn’t seen to his garden for ages, so instead of going to dismantle the monstrosity on the beach he spends his morning in the garden. It’s necessary and Wanda gets less pissy about being ignored than the rest of his hallucinations do.

 

He’s ignoring the hallucinations today, deciding that after telling Clint to stuff it earlier. He’s doubly glad he decided that when a very naked Steve lopes into the clearing his meager garden is in. He’s thinner then he should be so perhaps this one is meant to be Steven, whole and unblemished even if he is showing the effects of prolonged starvation combined with a super metabolism.

 

<”Mother and Country*, you're alive,”> French again so definitely Steven. Tony trains his eyes on a particularly stubborn weed; Maybe if he pulls to the left he might have better luck. <“I’m so sorry Tony. If I’d known it was the full moon I would have made sure to be far away or at least made you put up wards.”>

 

The weed stubbornly does not come free when it is jerked to the left. Looks like he’ll have to dig it out. Tony reaches for the shell he found that makes for an excellent garden trowel. He digs it into the earth next to the weed that’s trying to choke out one of his squash plants.

 

Steven’s hallucination comes closer and there is definitely something tentative in his movements, <“I really didn’t mean to put you at risk like that. I mean I was sick but that’s no excuse. I should have known. At least now that it’s over I won’t have to change again for at least eight months unless I get really hurt, so you don’t have to worry.”>

 

Tony glances up, the statement just too odd to not acknowledge in some way. Some of his incredulity must show on his face because Steven follows up the statement by explaining, <“It’s the serum. It makes it so I can go longer between changes. I might be able to go even longer, I just haven’t had the chance to see how long I can hold out for. During the war I’d get injured and you know how it goes. If a lycan's hurt bad and hasn’t healed before the full moon the wolf makes us shift. Luna’s reset button you know.”> He sounds so adorably awkward in his attempts to clarify.

 

Tony goes back to attacking the soil. The root system on this weed has apparently sent out runners.

 

<“Tony,”> Steven tries again plaintively. <”I’m really sorry. You said there are comic books about me in this world and Lycanthropy being the most common supernatural species in America you’d think that they’d leave that in but did they not? Did you not know?”> Steven sound like if he had a tail right now that it would be between his legs.

 

Tony can’t handle it anymore so he just snaps in the hopes it will make this illusion vanish like it does with most of the others. “Look, just stop! I’m ignoring hallucinations today. I’m ignoring all of you today so please tell the others that I’d really rather not have the company. I’ve spent the last several days taking care of the real you, or at least I think I have, which happens to be the alternate universe copy of the guy who used to be my best friend until he left me on this island to slowly go insane.” Hallucination Steven looks shocked now, so Tony just keeps on going. “Then, after being cuddled black and blue by copy of said friend, in addition to a bit of head trauma because he had fever induced nightmares, a fucking wolf explodes out of him. Or, you know, something like that ‘cause there’s rotting genetic matter in what was once my house and I was fucking hunted by a malnourished wolf that was almost the size of a horse. Now you’re trying to tell me that I should have used silver rounds rather than hallow point bullets when I blew out half the wolf’s head? Well I’m sorry, Mr. 'Figment of My Imagination' but I am just not doing this today. Come back tomorrow and bring Hallucination 451 or Steve with you so I can spend bullets on the lot of you and finely eat one myself because I am just done.” He's standing and practically shaking with anger by the end of his tirade so he turns on his heel and storms off.

 

If the hallucination calls after him, Tony doesn’t hear it.

 

Tony spends the rest of the day, minus a good hour of walking while sulking, setting traps, hunting, and gathering. He manages to bring back three birds and a bound up enormous leaf full of edible berries. Unable to stomach the thought of the house, Tony goes to the beach and plucks and cooks his meal there. The meal is bland but he’s made worse here and at least he’s figured out how to cook the birds all the way through rather than charring the outside and leaving the insides raw. He stays to watch the fire burn down to nothing, leaving his leftovers for whatever scavengers will have them once he’s gone.

 

The cave makes a suitable enough resting place for another night.

 

Tony dreams that he’s Steven again and that he’s getting beaten up in alley ways. He always gets back up because his mom always got back up. He tries to fight back but he’s too weak to be anything other than pathetic. Tony wakes up crying again.

 

With the intent of finishing up the garden in mind he returns home only to find it weeded and freshly watered, which he knows is not how he left it yesterday. The house, too, when he goes inside to get his tools to work on the aircraft is not in the state he left it in. It doesn’t smell and is as neat as it's possible to get. It’s bizarre to walk into his home and actually have to look for something. The gun is missing and that annoys him but he supposes he’ll find it later or one of the rather large felines will actually get him this time, though they don’t really come to this side of the island anymore. He finds his tools after a short hunt and they’re close enough to where they belong that Tony’s able to shrug it off. Shrugging hurts though, the marks in his flesh from the bite burn unpleasantly and he probably shouldn’t have gone so long without cleaning them. He changes clothes and actually eats breakfast in the house before going back out to the aircraft.

 

Tony has a productive, if long, day and returns home to find food already cooked and sitting on the table. The meat is still hot, which surprises him a hell of a lot less than it should. He’s pretty sure he’s not missing time but he’s not quite willing to believe that there actually is another person here. Maria, his mother, and Jarvis taught him better then to snub a gift of this sort so he eats dinner and washes the dishes. The night is warm in a way that tells him to expect rain in a day or so, even without a lot of his bones telling him the same thing. He strips down to only his breeches and ambles outside to lay out in his hammock on the porch. He feels like he’s unreasonably tired and his shoulder aches every time he moves it.

 

He sleeps well considering he dreams about being Steve and going to art school. Honestly, some of the classes are so boring it’s like he’s fallen asleep while asleep. He wakes up slowly, his vision kind of fuzzy. There’s a thatched roof above his head like there would be if he was still on the porch but the furs underneath him tell him that he’s inside. Rain is pouring outside and someone is humming a tune that is familiar but he can’t put his finger on it. He turns his head and it hurts, feeling as difficult as lifting a car without the suit. Steve is sitting in a stool by the bed and running his fingers through Tony’s hair in a soothing manner. Tony opens his mouth to ask why he’s there but his tongue is too big for his mouth and won’t move properly.

 

<“You should have told me the wolf bit you,” > Steve says softly in French, which is so very strange. French with what can only be described as a Brooklyn accent is even stranger. <“Why didn’t you clean the wounds? You let an infection set in and you still worked on that damned plane all day. If you get much worse you’ll probably die unless I bite you. I don’t want to do that without your permission though, so get better, okay? Please, I don’t want to be alone anymore. Please, survive this.”>

 

Tony wants to ask Steve how he can be alone when he has Sharron, Sam, James, or any of the Avengers, really. They're all his friends. Steve’s very lovable, which is why only evil people don’t love him, although some of them do too. And how the hell would biting him make anything better? He falls back asleep before he can ask anything at all.

 

He dreams about taking the serum and changing into a wolf. He dreams about Bucky’s suicide run and the sight of his commandeered craft exploding. He dreams about navigating the craft full of dark magic and menace into the Arctic Ocean where salt and time will erode it’s danger to the world.

 

He dreams of ice holding him in place after the magic has worn off. Everything is cold, wet, and dark for a while. He can’t make his limbs move and the wolf claws its way to the surface again and again even though it has to be even more cramped and uncomfortable than he is. Refreezing after each change is torture and he tries to imagine better places and happier times while his regrown brain cells die from oxygen deprivation. He’s not sure what worse the freezing, suffocation, or the crushing darkness. None of it ever ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as last time Comic Book references  
> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/79955352050/references-for-chapter-4
> 
> As you know doubt have noticed werewolves are a little different from normal.


	5. You feed the madness and it feeds on you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Consciousness is a fluid, slippery thing and Steve is always there, the bastard. When he dreams he is the super soldier and when he wakes he see him. When he’s awake he can see Steve or he can touch Steve. Steve’s voice is in his ear, soothing but sometimes crying or pleading. Sometimes Tony begs him to stop. Other’s, when he delirious from pain and anger on top of the fever that is eating his brain, he yells and curses at Steve. A couple of times he just wants Steve to stop looking so damn sad, so he’ll rasp out there best shared memories. Steve’s eyes look wet after those except for after the last time. He looks angry then.

 

The next time Tony wakes his head is clear but his body feels weak. Just opening his eyes is a nearly impossible task. The house is filled with day light, the storm having passed while he slept. Steven, because that’s who he knows his visions have been of, is slumped over and sleeping. The sun light that has filtered in though the poorly patched hole in the wall and the actual windows, shines on Steven’s hair, and though it's greasy, it looks like it's glowing.

 

Tony wonders if he reaches out if his hand will go straight through the man like it does with his other hallucinations. There is something so vulnerable about the other man right now. One way or the other Tony want’s to touch him, needs to even. It takes real effort but he’s able to reach out with a hand that feels like it’s weighted down with lead and places it on top of Steven’s knee, which is the closest part of him to Tony. Steven’s warm and solid under his palm, he feels so real.

 

Steven’s a super soldier who’s seen combat so of course Tony’s touch wakes him. He’s instantly alert and staring down at Tony in what is definitely relief. “You’re awake,” his English still sounds British and not exactly comfortable on his tongue.

 

“Yeah,” Tony croaks like there's a frog in his throat the size of Jersey and his mouth feels like the desert.

 

“Oh here let me get you some water,” Steven says and scrambles to his feet to pour water into one of his bamboo cups. He returns and has Tony propped up and the cup pressed to his lips in moments. Part of Tony thinks he should be annoyed by the man-handling and coddling but this saves him from having to admit he might need help.

 

Once he’s drunk enough water Steven lets him lay back down and fiddles with the empty cup while glancing surreptitiously at Tony. “So, um, do you still think I’m not real?”

 

Tony pretends to consider, “If you’re real then will you forgive me for ignoring you and being an ass and apparently shooting off half your head?”

 

Steven nods vigorously, “I’m just glad your bullets did enough damage to stop the wolf. If he had killed you… he’s killed before, he was kind of trained for it. I didn’t have him before the serum and after they found out I had to go through-“

 

“Conditioning,” Tony says a piece of one of his many dreams coming back to him.

 

Steven’s lips twitch into a pained grimace and he nods in confirmation, “So you are getting my memories.”

 

“Is that why I’ve been dreaming that I’m you?” Tony asks.

 

Steven nods hesitantly, “More memories will come maybe. It’s why all wolves are trained to kill during the moon if there in the military, too much of a security risk. Mostly we were shipped off somewhere for incarceration if they were wounded or they knew they couldn’t hold off another change. It was mandatory for all wolves to check into an incarceration clinic every three months for an obligatory change.”

 

“You didn’t always get that though,” Tony says because he knows that now. This Captain America did not get down time. “It seems like it would still be pretty risky anyways. What if something happens like it did with me and the enemy got away?”

 

“If the bite didn’t kill them… well, they mostly would end up with a smattering of memories. Most people say they were often memories of life changing events. In the war we were fighting though, their own people would have taken them out or worse, experimented on or tortured them. In previous wars,” Steven frowns considering. “I don’t know mostly, they were wolves fighting the fey or vampires, creatures that wouldn’t get the memory transfer. Using a human as bait in an attempt to get information was considered-“

 

“-barbaric,” Tony finished for him as more memories that weren’t his come to the surface. <”You can go back to speaking French. I know it’s more comfortable for you.”>

 

<”Thanks,”> Steven says. <”You can stick to English if you like.”>

 

“That’s considerate. And as I might have mentioned before, the primary language used in North America in this world is English.” Tony gives him a smile. “So am I going to go all furry during the full moon too?" That information apparently wasn’t considered life changing enough to pass on.

 

<No, _I_ didn’t bite you and I won’t unless you give me permission to,” > Steven actually looks a little affronted. <”You can’t accidentally make a lycanthrope, it has to be done with intent by the human half. Doing that to you would be like… well it’s considered worse than rape nearly everywhere in my world. Turning an unwilling human is only ever forgiven for extreme medical conditions with the permission of the medical proxy or a court order.>

 

”You thought about doing it though,” Tony says and kind of hates himself for it when Steven hunches in on himself.

 

<”I’m sorry. It was a terrible thing for me to consider,”> the self-loathing in the blonde’s voice in startling in its purity. <“I don’t think I would have but I did consider it.”> Tony thinks he must have considered it much more seriously then he’s letting on. He has the vague memory of lips trailing over his skin.

 

“In your place I would have too," Tony admits. It's true after all. He tells him in French because the familiarity of the language will be more comforting, <”You’ve spent possibly over seventy years alone. I’ve spent two and some change and I’m pretty sure I’d try to do something unforgivable at this point in time to keep from being alone anymore.”>

 

<“You didn’t summon me from my own world into this one did you?”> Steven questions and if he’s hopeful that Tony did and could possibly also have the power to send him back you wouldn’t be able to tell by the tone of the words.

 

“I can tell this memory transfer thing isn’t a two way street or you would know that I hate magic,” Tony scoffs. “No, I didn’t summon you or transport you or anything from another dimension. You, the plane, and the iceberg all showed up at once weeks ago and I don’t know why.”

 

<“I wouldn’t get your memories now unless we became mates,”> Steven informs him while apparently contemplating the cup in his hands once more. <”You'd have to be turned for that to happen though.”>

 

“Good to know,” Tony says. “Looks like there will be lots of stuff to tell you about then since I have no intention of becoming a werewolf. That shifting looks painful, as in on a scale of one to ten, ten being to most agonizing thing I’ve ever seen someone suffer, that was at least and eight. Probably a nine though.”

 

<“It’s not that bad,”> and Tony denies quite firmly hearing any note of disappointment in Steven’s voice. <“After the first time it’s not that bad, that is. You really should consider it.”>

 

Tony has some fairly painful memories that aren’t even his telling him different though, “That’s not what it looked like to me, it also looked quite messy.”

 

Steven grimaces, <“Okay but that was a bad example, it’s not normally like that. When we’re badly hurt the shift literally causes a kind of rebirth. Everything’s new and in perfect condition, it’s one of the reasons lycanthropes can live for hundreds of years.”>

 

“Like the legendary phoenix but messier,” Tony muses.

 

<“The last phoenix that was reborn killed hundreds of people and leveled trees and houses for miles before it settled,”> Steven retorts with a scowl. <“They're still excavating the ruins of Pompeii which were buried a long time ago.”>

 

“Okay, so actual Phoenixes are a bitch in your world too. Why can’t they be the size of a peacock like in those Harry Potter movies? The bird in that movie was helpful and burst into a perfectly manageable pile of ashes when it decided to rebirth,” Tony groans.

 

Steven kind of just smiles at him like Tony’s a confused child or something but says, <“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”>

 

“Good enough to run my mouth in any case,” Tony retorts and yawns hugely, his jaw cracking loudly. “I should probably get up and take a leek and see about finding something to eat.”

 

<”Are you sure you’re up for that? You’ve been sick for almost a week and I haven’t been able to get you to eat much.”> Steven nearly radiates concern.

 

“I’ve been through worse,” Which is true even though Tony feels about as strong as a newborn kitten.

 

<“I kind of assumed,”> Steven says and his eyes flick over the exposed sections of Tony’s body. Tony, for his part, tries not to flinch or feel self-conscious. He knows Steven can see the scars and is probably making some interesting guesses as to how Tony got them. The blue eyes focus longer on the RT and Tony forces himself not to grab for the furs to cover himself. Steven clearly wants to know about it, he’d brushed his fingers over it enough times before he could see for Tony to know that.

 

“You know what they say about assuming,” Tony quips and leavers himself up which forces Steven to break eye contact with his chest.

 

<”What do they say?”> Steven inquires and pretends, quite badly, that he isn’t hovering as Tony attempts to get to his feet.

 

“That it makes an ass out of U and me,” Tony retorts and concedes to himself that he need help. “That being said help me get to my feet before I fall.”

 

Steven huffs out what could be laugh or a sound of annoyance but he's on his own feet and helping Tony up the rest of the way. <”Maybe I can help you get outside too?”>

 

“Nope,” Tony denies him and manages to make it outside and to a tree without falling over. He’s strangely aware of how naked he is in a way it never much mattered before. Well, except for that one time after the dragon. Steve has seen him naked, drunk, and practically dead but feeling Steven’s eyes on him makes him more conscious of it. Maybe it’s the fact that inside of Steven there is a wolf that nearly killed him. It shouldn’t matter, Steve actually nearly did kill* him as the end of the “Civil War”, or as he’s heard a few people harshly joking, “That time Iron Man and Cap got a messy divorce and dragged all their friends into it too.” Sadly that analogy kind of worked and their friendship had never really recovered.

 

He makes it back to the house on his own but he has to rest on the door frame when he gets there. Steven is about to break out the scowl of disapproval, Tony can just see the hints of it. “If I try to make myself breakfast you’re ether going to stop me or wait till I fall on my ass when my legs give out on me, aren’t you.”

 

Steven looks momentarily startled but corrects, <“Actually I was planning on just man handling you into bed again as soon as you let go of the door frame.”>

 

“Any excuse you get to hold me, right?” Tony says, thinking of another conversation with another Steve suddenly.

 

The sarcastic response of, <“You see right through me,”>* hits like a punch in the gut even though it’s spoken in French. His face must betray the blow of it if the look on Steven’s is any indication. He’s out of practice when it comes to hiding his feelings. He'll have to get better at it. <”That’s something He said to you once isn’t it?”> When Steven says “He” it is clearly the shortened version of “the man from this universe who was your friend until he left you here, that also happens to be me.”

 

Tony shrugs and gives him a bland smile, “Yeah, it was. Don’t worry about it. You're the same person just from different worlds. There's going to be some overlap in mannerisms.”

 

Or possibly “He” is short for “that other me that I loath entirely” Tony amends mentally when he sees the scowl on Steven’s face. The frown that tugs at the edge of Steven’s mouth is only there for a moment before it vanishes and he snakes and arm around Tony’s waist, <“Come on let me get you back to bed before you fall over.”>

 

“I’ll be fine,” Tony objects even though he knows it's a filthy lie.

 

<“I don’t… maybe you should let me bite you.”> Steven pontificates again.

 

“I’m going to be fine Steven. The fever’s gone and I’m sure the impression your charming other half left is well past the point that I’ll have to worry about it getting infected again.” Tony says and sags gratefully onto the bed. “I’m sure there are some nice bonuses to being a werewolf but I’m actually really fine being human. Modified, but human.”

 

<“What if I told you there’s a possibility that you might not heal completely unless I bite you?”> Steven inquires. <”In a way it’s actually lucky that there aren’t any other humans here. Since you’ve survived the initial fever your chances are better.”>

 

Tony frowns, “Okay, I think maybe you better give me a bit more information about lycanthropy in your world because it sound like no Lycanthropy I’ve ever heard about.”

 

<“What’s it like here?”> Steven questions.

 

“I think it can be hereditary, but most likely it’s a curse, or maybe you got bit by a werewolf during the full moon and now you're one too. When you turn you look half human and half wolf but you might have some higher thought process. Jack does, at least, but I take it that he’s a very special case. During the rest of the month your just plain human, if a little temperamental. There mostly considered evil and dangerous, like vampires.” Tony replies.

 

<“Vampires aren’t evil,”> Steven declares, sounding offended.

 

“I know of exactly one in this world that isn’t. The rest of them are all dangerous, blood thirsty beasts. Your world is very different from this one Steven, start (yawn) expecting it.” Tony states.

 

<”Take a nap Tony. Your body might be attempting to recover,”> Steven says as he straightens and takes a step away. <”I’m going to see what I can put together for a meal and if you’re up for it after you’ve eaten then I’ll tell you about lycanthropy in my world.”>

 

“I don’t need a nap,” Tony object stubbornly.

 

<“Then why are you already half asleep?”> Steven challenges. Steven’s right and between one blink and the next Tony’s dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/80834077256/two-parts-broken-chapter-five


	6. This I do, being mad:  Gather baubles about me,  Sit in a circle of toys, and all this time,  Death beating the door in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
>  http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
>  Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
>  There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Tony spends most of the next two days ether eating or sleeping, but on the third day the itch under his skin is too much to allow him to stay in bed. They still haven’t had that conversation about Lycanthropy and at this point Tony thinks Steven might never tell him. Steven happens to not be in the house when Tony wakes, so Tony gets up and dresses gingerly because the bite mark is taking an astonishing amount of time to heal. He makes sure they are well covered and puts on a shirt that should protect him, Jan’s bitching about his stitching and seams, but aside that it’s perfectly serviceable. After dressing he doesn’t bother to do more than grab his tools and some of the dried meat he’s had set aside before he’s out the door.

 

It’s going to be one of the bad days, but at least he has something to work on. Admittedly it's deconstruction rather than construction, but sometimes you have to work backwards in order to move forwards. The remains of the aircraft are where he left them and all that’s left of the glacier is a sizable hunk that will be gone in a week, if the rate of melting holds true. Tony is going to have to make more tools and brush up on his glass blowing skills after this is done, but he’ll be able to create and do better this time around. His mind buzzes with possible improvements that will now be possible with new materials.

 

He’s contemplating the uses of silver when Steven’s voice finely reaches him. Tony blinks and stares at the wires he’s been carefully striping out from what had been the steering console. Lots of copper here in little pieces, he could use them to make any number of things. Damn it all what does Steven want?

 

Tony straightens and it hurts. His body is damp with a sheen of sweat and possibly a little blood but he’ll have the lift up his shirt to check. He can see Steven staring up at him from just left of the battered nose of the craft. The blonde’s expression is so ridiculously dreadful that Tony wonders if something horrible has just appeared. He grabs the blade that’s mostly ruined but is actually the best thing he has for a fight on hand and heads back out of the wreck. He doesn’t see anything out there but that doesn’t actually mean it’s safe. Tony makes a mental note to make Steven tell him where his gun is.

 

“What is it?” Tony asks when he’s within ten feet of Steven.

 

<“You weren’t at home,”> Steven chastises and he looks very much like he’s like to rush forward and shake Tony, there’s even an aborted half step. Steven looks back down the beach again and pales further so Tony’s absence from the house is not the reason for Steven’s anxiety. He’s actually quaking and his eyes are a little too wide. Steven is terrified of something and that is strangely unnerving. Tony looks but can’t see anything but ocean, beach, ice and jungle. Maybe he’s reading facial queues wrong or maybe this is an actual hallucination he’s talking to again.

 

“Why would I be at the house when I have work to do?” Tony points out. “This old hunk of junk isn’t going to dismantle its self Steven.”

 

<“Why do you have to dismantle it in the first place? It’s not like it’s going to sprout legs and march away, after all. As much as Namor hates clutter in his oceans this one really should be at the bottom of it.”> Steven replies and he glances at Tony briefly before going back to warily eyeing the same space he has been.

 

“Well it’s not.” Tony retorts, his head pounding. Apparently he has a headache that he wasn’t aware of. “It and you showed up on my beach so apparently you’re both my responsibility. I can find a way to repurpose almost everything in here so don’t be pig headed just because Hydra made it.”

 

Steven’s nostrils flair and his jaw sets into a hard line as he looks squarely at Tony. <“Fine I can see you have a point but you should still be at home resting. Do you not somehow understand how close you came to dying?”>

 

“I’ve almost died plenty of times and I’ve made it a habit of not letting it get in the way of my work. I don’t need any more rest, I need to work,” Tony snaps, the itch under is skin has barely been dulled by the few hours of work he’s put in. God he thinks his hands might actually be vibrating with the need to work. Trying to rest now would be like allowing scorpions to crawl all over his flesh for hours.

 

<“No you don’t, not until your better and not until we’ve managed to make you something to protect you,”> Steven bellows.

 

Tony barely stops himself from commenting that Steven looks like his father when he’s angry, it would be beyond cruel. It wouldn’t be entirely true ether because there is a lot of Sarah Rogers in the look he’s receiving. Tony takes several deep breaths, which feels harder than it should and adds a lovely coating of worry to Steven’s face. “I’ve had my tetanus booster plus a myriad of other immunization roughly 29 months ago. I’ll be fine working without gloves.”

 

The sound Steven makes can only be described as a growl and its more beast then human. Tony’s still blinking in surprise at the sound when Steven literally picks him up and throws him over his shoulder. Tony yelps in surprise and starts trying to futilely fight against Steven’s hold. Steven pretty much ignores Tony’s attempts to gain freedom and proceeds in the direction of Tony’s house. As he saunters down the worn path toward home he ignores Tony’s protests and finely chooses to explain a few things. <“Any immunities you might have had are a moot point. There’s a reason the fatality rating from a wolf’s bite are so high, Tony. It removes all traces of all other disease and the antibodies you’ve built up to fight against them. I can’t and don’t carry disease but if you ran into another human you’d probably die from getting a cold.”>

 

“A cold,” Tony says incredulously.

 

<“A cold, Tony. You have no immune system and aren’t likely to have one ever again unless you become something other than human,”> Steven replies. <“If you want I can bite you then you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”>

 

“You’re not biting me Rogers,” Tony replies, hoping that this will be the last time he has to say it.

 

Steven sighs, <“Fine, but you are going to be more careful. If you want something done you’re going to have to tell me how or what to do, at least until we figure something else out.”>

 

“Are you confining me to my bed or just the house?” Tony questions, and yes he does sound petulant. They're not far from the house now, he can see the edge of his vegetable garden from here.

 

<“Just the house unless you take a turn for the worst,”> Steven replies. <“Once you’re as close to healthy as you’re going to get then we can go from there.”>

 

“Steven, this is my life we are talking about here and I should get to decide if I’m going to recklessly endanger it or not. I’ve been deciding that for years.” Tony points out as he’s set back on his feet on the porch.

 

<“Is that reckless endangerment why you’re here on this island?”> Steven demands.

 

Tony suppresses the flinch and manages to keep his voice steady when he responds, “No. The reason I’m here isn’t because I was reckless.”

 

<“That other me, he was your friend and he left you here, are you sure part of the reason for that wasn’t to protect you?”> Steven probes, looking at Tony closely like he knows the answer and he’s just waiting for Tony to confirm it.

 

Tony curls his lip in disgust, “If that was the driving force, or even a deciding factor behind this, then I will find a way to melt his shield and remold it into a trophy for how much of a prick he is before shoving it up his ass.” Steven’s eye brows shoot up into his hairline. “I am not some damsel Steven, I’m a grown man and I can take care of myself.”

 

<“Unless, as in the case of this past week, you are incapable of it.”> Steven retorts sharply. His temper, like Steve’s, is on a shorter thread when Tony’s gotten himself in trouble. <“Or like today? Tony there’s no shame in accepting help. Often when you least want it is when you need it most.”>

 

“I shouldn’t need help!” Tony shouts. “I’m not a super soldier, I’m not perfect, but I shouldn’t need help!”

 

<”Well you clearly do!”> Steven shouts back at him. Tony’s swinging at him without thinking but it doesn’t connect. Steven holds his fist where he stopped it, a few inches from his face. <“Don’t.”> It’s a command and a warning, Tony feels it and his stupidity to his bones.

 

Tony relaxes his arm and looks away as his hand hangs loosely in Steven’s hold. “Sorry,” he gives Steven half a sheepish smile. “You barely know me and you’re not him.” Steven lets his hand go and Tony lets it flop uselessly to his side before he walks into the house. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with our baggage.”

 

Steven, mercifully, doesn’t says anything and doesn’t follow him inside.

 

Tony spends the day adding in every new thing he’s uncovered about the craft to his draft. Considering that it was built in another world and in the nineteen forties, it should really be considered a work of art. Hell, parts of it could be considered advanced even for his time. Other parts are built in such a way that they literally don’t make any sense until he realizes that they are most likely magical in some why.

 

Steven, when he returns indoors to make dinner, confirms this hypothesis. <“It’s technomancy,”> Steven explains. <“As a practice it's only been around about 150 years, but Howard says that it’s the future of the human race.”>

 

“Howard… oh never mind, that’s so weird,” Tony says when a new set of memories, that really aren’t his at all, come to the forefront. “Say, when am I going to stop remembering more of your memories?”

 

Steven looks a little startled, <“You’re still getting more of my memories?”>

 

“Well an hour ago I didn’t have the memory of my Dad inviting a pretty brunette out for fondue and thinking it was a sexual innuendo. You know fondue is ether chocolate or cheese sauce that’s… oh you do. He took you to get some.”

 

Steven goes from blushing to paling slightly before composing himself. <“It looks like you are still getting more of my memories. Howard’s your father?”>

 

“Yes, he died here a long time ago. Car accident. Both him and my mother were in the car.” Tony says shortly.

 

<“Oh,”> Steven fidgets and turns back to the vegetable he’s chopping.

 

Tony thinks about the fact that this Steve has actually lost, not only everyone he’s ever known, but also his entire world. He wonders how much that detail has sunk in for the man. Out here, Steven is more detached from humanity and life than ever before. He’s only got crazy Tony Stark telling him that he’s in another world. This man whole world at this moment is based on the words of a self-proclaimed incarcerated mad man. Tony could cry over of how pathetically sad that is. He laughs instead.

 

Steven drops the knife and spins around the stare at Tony, who’s laughing so hard he might just fall off his stool. <“Tony?”> Steven quarries.

 

“Oh God!” Tony wheezes. “You poor bastard.” He actually has to hold onto the table, he’s laughing so hard. There are tears in his eyes, which would be appropriate if they weren’t accompanied by howls of laughter. “Did you… I don’t know. Did you sleep with the Sorcerer Supremes’ daughter? (wheeze) Did you jilt a god? I mean your world is definitely more magical then ours so maybe you were born under an unlucky star or some crap like that. What the hell did you do that was so bad that you were sent to me?”

 

Steven glowers. He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls even harder when Tony notices and laughs so exuberantly that he falls to the ground. When Tony is able to breathe again, Steven's placid, <“Are you finished?”> sets him off again into a much shorter spell of laughter.

 

He wipes the tears from his eyes and grins pityingly up at Steven. <“Sorry, it’s not really funny, I know. The fact is, it’s really cruel. I’m also damned sure I haven’t laughed like that since before Rumiko cheated on me. God, that in its self is sad. Steven, I am so very sorry. You’re here, so far removed from everything and any everyone that it probably doesn’t even feel real to you. Worse than that, you’re stuck with me, the guy who single handedly made it impossible for you to ever get home before you even got here.”>

 

Steven frowns, puzzled, <”What do you mean?”>

 

<“Well,”> Tony answers and relaxes back against the floor rather than straining to look at Steven. <"If you want, later, I’ll give you the whole extensive sordid mess of a story, you deserve that. For now I guess you should know that there were two people who could have gotten you home if you had shown up in, say, New York. Stephen Strange, this worlds Sorcerer Supreme, probably could have gotten you back magically; but now he’s ether in hiding or locked up. Reed Richards built the technology that could have found your home and sent you there but I destroyed most of it after I sent him and his family to the world of their choosing. It’s obvious no one left out there is competent enough to repair the technology, or they would have noticed the anomaly big enough to drop a massive glacier here.”> For that matter, it means that there was no visual surveillance of this island or someone would have shown up to take Steven and the aircraft’s remains away already.

 

<“I see that you sending Reed away could somehow, in a roundabout way, make you indirectly responsible, but how would this Stephen Strange also be your fault?”> Steven queries. He doesn’t look or sound mad. Hell, he doesn't seem to be upset at all.

 

<“Because I organized the group, the Illuminati, and built the devise that damned us all by saving this world by sacrificing another.”> Tony admits and he lurches up. <"I’m going to go take a piss,”> He states and then walks out the door. Steven might not be upset but Tony is.

 

Tony goes further away then he needs to, but Steven doesn’t go outside to stop him. He takes a very long, meandering tour back so it’s nearly full dark by the time he’s in sight of the house. Steven’s lit the lamps and that makes the patch job done on the house more obvious. If Steven’s decided he doesn’t mind sleeping under the same roof as a mass murder then the man is going to have to help with the remodel. Cutting and sanding that many boards is a bitch and the bamboo isn’t much better. What might have been salvageable from the contraption he used to get to the aircraft are long gone or not suitable any more.

 

The table has been cleared of his work and has been set like they’re two actual adults living in civilization and not two lost souls in the middle of nowhere. The disapproving look Steven gives him is so classic bitchy house wife, it’s almost funny. <“There something wrong with your bladder Tony?”> Steven asks.

 

<“Sometimes it just doesn’t like to be watched. But no, I took a walk to stretch my legs,”> Tony replies.

 

The scowl of displeasure deepens, <“Tony, it’s dangerous out there. I could smell predators in the area when I went to find you today.”>

 

Good to know that one of the islands dangers are in the area again, but he doubts they’ll come close to the house. <“Which is why I normally carry around my gun. I know what’s out there. I’ve lived here for over 2 years now, after all.”>

 

<“Considering what you threatened to do with it I’m not exactly inclined to give it to you when I can protect you,”> Steven replies and spoons hot stew into the bowls at the table. <”Go wash your hands, it’s time to eat.”>

 

<”Yes mother,”> Tony mocks. Tony moves to do as asked and adds, <“Steven, I have seven doctorates*, two of those are in physics and engineering. I don’t actually need a gun to kill myself.”>

 

<“I wouldn’t want to make it too simple for you though,”> Steven replies tartly. Tony’s only irritating him more, the man might just lose his temper soon.

 

<“Steven I could bite off my own tongue and choke myself on it. Don’t make me draw diagrams and write calculations for all the ways I could off myself because it will only depress you. And unless I’m drafting, my drawing skills are deplorable.”> Tony informs him as he sits down across from the blond.

 

<“Tony, if you mention trying to kill yourself to me again I will deem you mentally incompetent and make myself your medical proxy by default and bite you. Lycanthropes, by the way are, very hard to kill.”> Steven warns, clenching his fist so hard that his knuckles have gone white.

 

Tony decides that he’d better not point out that he’s already admitted to hallucinations which makes his mental stability pretty questionable already. He considers Steven and decides trying to placate him is the best course of action without the armor. So Tony looks the other man in the eyes and declares in all seriousness, <“Steven I will promise you this; I will not abandon you to live alone, should I have any say in the matter. I know what it’s like to be alone out here and I can’t do that to you. You've been alone a long time as it is.”>

 

Steven swallows and his gaze darts away for a moment. When he returns his attention he stares at Tony his gaze unnervingly penetrating. <”I’ll give you the gun back if you give me the bullet with your name on it.”> Tony looks mildly startled, so Steven adds, <”Once I figured out how, I ejected the clip. I took out all the bullets and saw that you have names on all of them.”>

 

Tony nods, <“Yes they do, all the ones I’ve fired on this island have had names. It makes me use them more sparingly. I kind of made a promise to myself that once they were fired I would forgive whoever’s name was on it. The gun came with only one extra clip with 24 bullets. I’ve had to forgive a lot of people so far. It's easier when they’re saving your life.”>

 

Steven is clearing thinking about this last statement so they eat for a little while in silence. <”You’ll just have to forgive yourself without firing your bullet then.”> Steven finely tells him.

 

Tony feels his mouth twitch into the blasphemy of a smile. <”I was never meant to be forgiven. Something’s aren’t forgivable Steven. Someone who looks a few years older than you told me that.”>

 

<“Really? Because I believe that a real friend can be forgiven all manner of sins,”> Steven challenges.

 

Tony smiles bemusedly, <“You're young.”>

 

<“According to you I’m in my nineties,”> Steven counters. <”Now finish your stew it’s getting cold.”>

 

<“It’s a good eighty degrees in here it’s not going to get that cold.”> Tony mutters but tucks in all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can’t tell already Steven is a hodge-podge combination of Comic verse and Movie verse (or at least his past is).  
> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/80925400821/as-you-can-see-the-writers-cant-agree
> 
> Chapter title is the first part of the poem "Siege" by Edna St. Vincent Millay


	7. If you want a thing done well, do it yourself.- Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Tony drops off to sleep much quicker than he expected but still a long time after Steven. When the man previously called “Tin Man", with affection, wakes up, Steven is setting bowls on the table again. When Tony sits up he notices that the gun is also on the table. He doesn’t touch it during their quiet breakfast or the cleanup afterword.

 

Tony actually gets out the kit he put together for cleaning the gun before he even touches it. He ejects the magazine then efficiently dissembled the gun under Steven’s focused gaze. Steven watches mutely as he checks the parts and cleans them before sliding it all back together. He leaves the clip out. “This gun’s actually been discontinued,” Tony says mildly.

 

<“Why?”> Steven asks. <“It’s the best one I’ve ever seen. Smooth, clean, light and I don’t think there would be much recoil.”>

 

“There’s no recoil,” Tony informs him. “The designer put it back in to the later models. He thought that if you were firing a gun, and it shot someone else, you should feel it too.” Tony picks up the clip and begins removing the bullets. There aren’t many left. “He actually stopped manufacturing armaments not too long after that though. Didn’t want to continue making his money through death.” Tony holds the last bullet in his hand and looks at it. “This gun is considered a collectors piece now, even the rounds are. Every bullet is stamped with the manufacturers label and they’re all exclusively made for this style of gun.” He holds the bullet out to Steven and waits for the man to take it. Steven lifts it off of Tony’s palm and dutifully looks at the stamp then back at Tony. Tony starts putting the remaining bullets back in the magazine in the correct order. “I stopped making weapons to sell but they weren’t the last ones I made. You haven’t actually asked what I did that made my best friend leave me here, but I can tell you that on the days I feel like being honest with myself I know too well that I deserve to be here and so much worse.”

 

Steven considers this as he fiddles with the bullet in his hand. <”Tell me, if you had to do it all over again, the thing that got you here, would you? Would you still do it knowing what would happen to you?”>

 

“Yes,” Tony replies automatically he had a pretty good idea where he was heading as soon as he made the devise any ways. “I would do the same if it was asked of me today. I would continue to do the same thing until this world wasn’t worth saving anymore. I might keep doing it even after that, if you still had faith that it would get better.”

 

<“You weren’t talking to me just then.”> Steven tells him, catching Tony’s apparent slip of the tongue.

 

“Actually I think I was talking to both of you,” Tony shrugs.

 

<“We aren’t the same person Tony,”> Steven says and he finely sounds upset rather than irritatingly calm like he’s been all morning.

 

Tony nods because he knows this. This Steven Rogers and Steve are not the same person but Tony knows this man is someone he could have faith in. He thinks that’s why he’s not sugar coating things so much. If he’s going to idolize a man he’d better make sure his god knows who his followers are. “You’re not the same, not sure you ever could be now. You are a good man though and you have faith in the right things. Hang onto that Steven, but don’t let is blind you.”

 

<“Do you think that is what happened to your friend?”> Steven inquires.

 

“I think…” Tony says, frowning because what he knows of this young man is giving more definition to his once friend. “Steve went from being a boy to being expected to be a man too soon. Then from being a man to being a symbol. He once told me he’s never had a real vacation* and he’s never really taken the time to decide who he is on his own. He defaults to being the symbol because he doesn’t trust himself, I suppose, to be good enough without a firm set of guidelines. I’m getting a whole new perspective on why his relationships never work out. I had kind of thought he was distancing himself from his girlfriends because of the life expectancy thing.”

 

Steven looks a little unsettled and is silent for a while so Tony makes a suggestion, “Capsicle, out here you’ve got nothing but time to think about who you are, so maybe stop avoiding it. You don’t have to be afraid of yourself, you are a good man. Even if you decide to keep to just being a symbol you’ll still be a good man. If you want my honest opinion, I don’t think you’ll be happy even if we do find you a way back home someday.”

 

<“You think you could find a way to send me back?”> Steven asks, and it’s painfully obvious to Tony that Steven is desperate for a subject change.

 

Tony almost shrugs but thinks better of it because he doesn’t want to pull too much on the barely healing wounds, “In all honesty, I’ve dealt with stranger and more improbable things than that. For instance, I’ve gotten to witness Captain America waking up after decades in the ice twice now.” Steven pales and shudders a little, his hands tremble slightly. “Steven?”

 

Steven flushes slightly and looks away, <“Could you maybe not talk about that?”>

 

“About what? You and Steve or the waking up part?” Tony asks because he’s not entirely sure.

 

<“Either, really, but avoiding any mentions of ice would be preferable,”> Steven admits and laces his fingers together, tightening the hold he has on himself.

 

Tony thinks his eyebrows might be trying to make a break for his hair line. Is this Captain America, who might actually be stronger then Steve physically, afraid of ice now? “Is that what was bothering you on the beach yesterday?”

 

Steven nods, <“It’s stupid, I know but I can’t… can we talk about something else?”>

 

Tony cocks his head to the side considering before he says, “I assume that you’re not going to let me work on the plane for a while yet.”

 

<“No, not until your better, you have more adequate safety gear, and the bite marks are significantly more healed,”> Steven confirms.

 

“Thought not,” Tony says with a sigh. He’s going to have to occupy himself here for a while. “Right then, are you planning on sharing the house with me or are you going to want to build your own place?” Tony thinks he already knows the answer though. This Captain America is very tactile, even now one of Steven’s feet is resting just beside his own. And the man sleeps curled up around Tony like Tony’s the bestest teddy bear ever and Steven’s three. Tony would have been thinking more of it, or at least be worried about it, if he didn’t have a set of memories telling him that Steven had done something similar with Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos. It’s apparently a lycanthrope thing, at least when they're “puppies”. Puppies being the term used for newly minted Lycanthropes and werewolf children. Ah, Tony’s going to have fun with vocabulary. Tony can also remember “Pup” being Steven’s nickname and how embarrassing it was when the commandos brought it up in front of Peggy.

 

<”I want to live with you,”> Steven pronounces. Oh dear god the man has the best little blush ever; Just the tops of his ears and over his cheeks. Tony can’t honestly say that he’s ever thought of blushes as attractive before but he must have or it’s another symptom of his slowly degrading mind. Had Steve ever blushed like this? Doesn’t matter. In fact it would probably be better for Steven if Tony tried putting this worlds Captain America out of his head for good. Tony can’t do much good for the world at large right now but he can make a difference for this one man. Steven deserves better than Tony.

 

Tony nods and doesn’t put the other man on the spot, “Well, if you haven’t noticed, the house is a bit of a mess right now.”

 

<“Your roof leaked during the storm,”> Steven adds, oh so helpfully.

 

“I’m a business man, a professional engineer, and it’s quite likely I had more assets than the Pope more than once. Needless to say I have not thatched roofs all my life and there’s a difference between knowing how something is done in theory and actually building it from scratch.” Tony declares defensively.

 

Steven’s lips are twitching like he really wants to smile but isn’t because he doesn’t want to goad Tony. <“Also we should air out the furs.”>

 

“Yeah I normally do that every couple of days. We’re still going to have to reset the traps and you’re going to have to go hunting for something larger so we can tan the hide into leather. I really hope you’re better with a needle than I am,” Tony says and he has a sudden memory or Sarah Rogers showing Steven how to darn socks.

 

<“I don’t actually know how to tan a hide,”> Steven admits, like Tony couldn’t already guess that about a native nineteen forties New Yorker.

 

“It requires brains. Literally. I have book that you can read as long as you can read English,” Tony is not going to comment on how weird it feel to ask Captain America if he can read English.

 

<“I can,”> Steven confirms and looks a little proud of the accomplishment. Tony can recall now learning the basics from his mother’s bible, then more during training so he could read the letters Peggy sent. With added interest he asks, <“You have books?”>

 

“A crate full,” Tony answers. “Most of them are survival books geared toward this type of climate but there are a few others, some of my favorites and a couple of classics. Do they have Tolkien in your world?”

 

<“Yeah, he wrote a science fiction novel. I read it,”> Steven replies. <”I liked the robots.”>

 

Tony thinks his eyes might fall out of his head. It sort of make sense. In a world with vampires, werewolves, and fairies what would be so epic about a halfling, a wizard and a bunch of Dwarves slaying a dragon? “Okay you are reading the Hobbit and you have to tell me everything that’s different. Hell, I might read it.” Tony has had the suspicion that Steve was the one who had contributed that particular book to the collection of things he was given and he hasn’t been able to touch it.

 

<“The Hobbit was the name of the name of his book in our world. Hobbits were a type of fey and android hybrid,”> Steven starts.

 

Tony holds up his hands to forestall more words slipping past Steven’s perfect lips, “Just stop right there. We'll read the book together after we retrieve the crate. I don’t keep the books here.”

 

<“Why don’t you keep them here?”> Steven wonders aloud and it is rather strange, Tony supposes.

 

“You haven’t seen me on a really bad day or you wouldn’t be asking that,” Tony tells him. Steven is going to ask so Tony just jumps onto a different subject, “Anyways, it looks like a redesign for the house is in order and were going to need lots of wood. I assume you can chop down a tree without letting it fall on the house we're already in. I suppose we could even rebuild in a tree, if we wanted.”

 

<“A tree Tony?"> Steven asks incredulously. <“You’re human, not a fey.”>

 

“Do they not have the book Swiss Family Robinson or is that one completely different too?" Tony asks. There’s a copy of the book in the crate, it was from Peter, and he’d even scribbled a message in it.

 

<”If there is one I haven’t heard of it,”> Steven answers.

 

“Right, well, next to the Captain America movies, Star Trek and Star Wars, Swiss Family Robinson was my favorite movie as a kid. It’s about a family that gets shipwrecked and end up on an island and they build a house in the trees. I designed one for the biggest tree in the yard of the mansion but my parents wouldn’t let me build it. A wise choice on their part because it would have been in violation of so many building codes, not to mention city ordinances.” Tony tells him.

 

<“You’re the engineer,”> Steven shrugs. <“So long as it was high enough, and you made the way up retractable, you might be safe up there on the full moon nights.”> His blue eyes flick to Tony’s shoulder guiltily then back to his face.

 

“I’m stuck inside for a while, I can design two houses.” Tony offers. It will give him something to do.

 

<”You might want to design a greenhouse while you’re at it. Most of your crops were ruined by that rain storm.”> Steven tells him.

 

Tony groans, “I don’t suppose you have any clue as to how hard it is to make sheet glass, or glass at all, without the proper equipment.”

 

<“I wanted to take the class while I was in art school but I didn’t have the lungs for it,”> Steven says and his foot under the table nudges against Tony’s. <“I’d love to learn.”>

 

Tony looks at him thoughtfully, “You know, some of those classes you took might be more helpful then you ever thought Steven.” Tony stands taking the gun with him to put away properly until he gets to leave the house. “I’ll get my thoughts on paper then. Do you want to take the bedding outside to air?”

 

<”Sure, I’ll do that,”> Steven obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/81631247921/http-www-native-art-in-canada-com-braintanning-ht
> 
> Also I might not update for a few weeks. I only get internet two days a week and next week I'll be spending sewing a costume for a Vampire Masquerade Ball. Wish me luck.


	8. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven's world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
>  http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
>  Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
>  There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Now on to some very dodgy medical science from Steven’s world…

 

Wolf’s Bite: An immunodeficiency disorder contracted by bacteria present in the saliva and blood of the canine form of a lycanthrope. The onset of the disorder is immediate upon even the slightest introduction of the bacteria to the blood stream of a human subject. It eliminates all the white blood cells and natural killer cells in the body within a matter of hours or days. It is supposed that this is in order to expedite the transition to Lycanthropy when the victim is bitten by the humanoid counter part of the wolf.

 

Vampires and Greater Fey are immune to Wolf’s Bite. Lesser Fey are known to have varying degrees of allergic reactions to the bacteria but no fatalities have been documented save for in the cases where the victim was fatally wounded by the bite.

 

There is no known cure for Wolf’s Bite other than a Transition Procedure. Ancient texts claim that Phoenix tears or a Genie’s wish can cure Wolf’s Bite but due to the rarity of both there is no scientific proof.

 

Transition Procedure: The steps taken in the evolution from Human to Fey, Vampire, or Were-creature.

 

Neutralization: All effects of magical disease are removed from the human subject. The human subject becomes immune, ether temporarily or permanently, to all magic.

Transition procedures have the fallowing statistical outcomes as remedies: ** (see below)

 

Fey Blessing**: Success 45%, Fatality 45%, Neutralization 10%

 

Vampirism Bloodline type scenario**: Success 35%, Fatality 45%, Neutralization 20%

 

Vampirism Favored type scenario**: Success 30%, Fatality 55%, Neutralization 15%

 

Lycanthropy Alpha type scenario**: Success 95%, Fatality 2.5%, Neutralization 2.5%

 

Lycanthropy Omega type scenario**: Success 90%, Fatality 4%, Neutralization 6%

 

Lycanthropy Beta type scenario**: Success 80%, Fatality 12%, Neutralization 7%

 

Were-blending type scenario**: Success 2%, Fatality 70%, Neutralization 28%

 

The transition from human with Wolf’s Bite to Lycanthrope will take a matter of minutes and be nearly painless. The transition from human without Wolf’s Bite to Lycanthrope will take anywhere from hours to days depending on health and body mass. This form of Transformation Procedure is often referred to as “Dry Turning” and causes agonizing pain to a human the Transition Procedure is being attempted on. Dry Turning has a 75% success rate, a 20% fatality rate, and a 5% chance of neutralization. Attempting Dry Turning with pain inhibitors lowers the fatality rating significantly but increases the chance of neutralization.

 

**:

 

Fey Blessing: A greater Fey such as an elder dragon, plane touched, or those known as god children are capable of transforming humans into other beings. Warning: the outcomes of these transitions are not always in the control of the Fey.

 

Vampirism Bloodline: Bloodline Vampires are the offspring of two vampires by birth and their blood is more potent for the purposes of turning.

 

Vampirism Favored: Offspring of Vampires by blood transfer from a Sire. Both Bloodline Vampires and Favored Vampires can be a Sire.

 

Lycanthropy Alpha type scenario: The Lycanthrope whose canine form infected the human bites the victim in an attempt to Transition the human. Note: the success percentage increases by 1.5% if the Lycanthrope was birthed rather than transitioned.

 

Lycanthropy Omega type scenario: A Lycanthrope who was born a Lycanthrope bites the victim in an attempt to Transition the human.

 

Lycanthropy Beta type scenario: A Lycanthrope who was successfully transitioned bites the victim in an attempt to Transition the human.

 

Were-blending type scenario: A non-lycanthrope were-creature attempts a Transition Procedure. Note: this method was outlawed in America in 1902 due to the low success rate and unacceptable amount of pain caused in the attempt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real chapter Next time I swear. This was just to answer some questions with out having tedious conversations.


	9. “Nothing made me happen. I happened.” ― Thomas Harris, The Silence of the Lambs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Tony actually designs several things that day, very few of which are houses. Steven keeps coming in and asking him questions in between the tasks he has given himself or the ones Tony’s made for him. He asks about the island first, and Tony tells him about plants the lookout for, the animals, and some of the basic geography and weather. Next, he asks about the things Tony has created on the island, and Tony gives him a verbal lists of the things he’s made successfully. Over lunch he tell Steven about some of the more humorous failures.

 

Tony thinks that Steven would like to know what the world is like off this island but isn’t willing to bring it up. Tony draws the Baxter building and the last car he designed and leaves it at Steven’s seat for when he returns in doors to start dinner. Steven gapes. The questions he gets aren’t the ones he’s expecting. He expects the questions Steve had asked, or the request for descriptions of places Steve had gone to see himself. What he gets are questions for how things work, questions perfect for an engineer to answer. Steven wants to know how the technology works without magic. Tony ends up filling the rest of Steven’s page up with tiny schematics for everything from a coffee maker to a super collider. His wrist aches by the time Steven decides its bed time.

 

That night with Steven spooned up behind him, despite the heat, he remarks, <“I think that we should build a tree house. I liked the design.”>

 

“Really? I thought it was pretty sparse. I’d have to build a work room elsewhere along with your green house. That’s a lot more back and forth.” Tony points out, even though he’s already got the tree picked out in his head.

 

<“I don’t exactly get tired out very easily,”> Steven points out. <“If you get tired out you can always send me to fetch and carry.”>

 

Tony wrinkles his nose and scowls a little at the thought. “I’m probably less fond of being reliant on another person than you are,” He doesn’t add that it always comes back to bite him in the ass, and this Captain America doesn’t know him well enough to know it’s there.

 

<“I can rely on other people, with the Commandos I had to,”> Steven retorts.

 

“Yeah I know,” Tony agrees. He got enough memories to know that’s true. “But before the war you didn’t rely on anyone else. After your mom, who, by the way, didn’t really count on anyone else from what I’ve remembered… you were on your own.”

 

Steven is quite for a moment and Tony knows he said the wrong thing. The werewolf crawls out of bed and fills a cup with water. Once he’s finished drinking it, he sets the cup down with a soft ‘think’ before heading out the door. <“When we have an argument don’t ever bring up my mother. I’m going for a run, get some sleep.”>

 

Steven practically vanishes he moves so fast and Tony is left in the dark thinking a few things. One, he wasn’t sure that qualified as an argument, more of a mild differing of opinions. Two, that he and Steve had never gotten into a disagreement conducted ether that civilly or rationally. Three, and most importantly, he needed to stop trying to push away the only other person who is actually on this island. He ends up rubbing his wrist in the dark until his other wrist cramps up.

 

Sleep does not come easy and Steven has still not returned by the time Tony drifts off. He wakes only briefly when Steven comes back and crawls into bed. Steven lays down on the far side of the bed, which isn’t all that wide so there’s only about six inches between them. “Sorry,” Tony practically slurs out. Steven grunts in response and stays where his is. Tony falls back into the arms of Morpheus, feeling ill at ease.

 

_Tony’s wandering down a hallway in the Avenger’s tower. He’s supposed to be at a meeting, or maybe he’s supposed to be at Peter’s birthday party, he doesn’t really know. He does know there’s something important up ahead though. There’s something he has to see. The wooden door feels like he should be able to identify it, although he doesn’t recognize it. What’s inside though he knows as well as he knows the armor. It’s the Captain America memorabilia room. In the middle of the room, in full uniform with his hands clasped behind his back where Tony can see them, is Cap. He stands stiffly, looking up at something that would not actually fit in this room in real life. The memorial statue is just as imposing now as when it was first unveiled. Tony finds himself approaching slowly, both not wanting to move forward and knowing he has no choice._

_“You know I once caught Nick Fury in here. He was holding my old shield,” Cap says, his voice echoing around the room._

_“I know. You had me sweep the room for bugs and I had Jarvis take inventory to make sure nothing was missing,” Tony replies._

_“You always did care a lot about my image, keeping it pristine. Is that why you never told me?” Cap asks._

_“Told you what?” Tony asks confused. “I’m pretty sure I told you everything.”_

_“I think you left out the most important bit,” Cap says and Tony actually realizes it’s the statue speaking, not the still man in front of it._

_Tony feels dread in the pit of his stomach, “What did I leave out?”_

_“You didn’t tell me that you love me. Which you do. Why else would you lie to me, keep things from me, let them steal my memories. You did it all to protect me,” Cap says. “So I could stay untarnished, you would protect me from yourself. Isn’t it sad Tony?”_

_“What’s sad?” Tony hears himself ask._

_“How much you hurt yourself and Steve just because you love me?” The uniform turns around and regards Tony with its empty cowl, and in that moment the animated leather is the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen. It walks toward him and Tony instinctively moved backwards, away from it. “You shouldn’t love a symbol more than you love a man Tony. Symbols are like traditions, the wooden ladder of society that eventually breaks, no matter how much care they are given.”_

_Tony’s back collides with a hard surface. He tries to move away, to go around, but there’s so much stuff around his feet. Comic books, trading cards, lunch boxes. All matter of memorabilia is piled high around him. God he can’t move._

_“What do you do with sticks of wood?” The costume continues to walk toward him. Just as the empty scale touches his chest and all he can practically see is the empty cowl, it says, “You burn them,” and the suit ignites as it wraps its hollow arms around Tony, tying him to the hardness behind him. It hurts and Tony screams, but he’s not the only one screaming. He can tilt his head just enough to see a Steve Rogers made of wood, burning to death right along with him. They’ve been tied together by the suit. Steve can’t get away because he’s been tied to Tony, whose been trapped by all the things that he collected. Tony thrashes and pleads with the suit and begs forgiveness from Steve. The wood covering his body has burned away revealing human muscle and bone. God he won’t stop screaming either. He’s screaming Tony’s name._

 

Tony wakes up mid shout to disheveled blond hair and worried blue eyes. He forces himself to stop screaming and pants for breath with Steven’s fingers digging into his biceps. Vaguely he’s aware of his name being spoken and reassurances that everything’s fine. It feels like it takes forever to come back to himself fully.

 

Once more aware, he’s not sure if he wants to curl into Steven’s embrace or walk out the door and keep going until he’s at the bottom of the ocean. In the end he settles on a chagrinned smile and gently pushes at Steven, “I’m fine.”

 

Steven relaxes his iron grip and rests his head above Tony’s clavicle. There is a strange tension in Steven’s body, something both angry and guilty. In truth it makes Tony wish he hadn’t been so obsessed with his old friend so that he couldn’t recognize it. Tony sighs and pats Steven awkwardly on the shoulder. “Really I’m good, it was just a nightmare not one of your less than cuddly memories.”

 

Steven’s voice resembles a bestial growl when he asks, <“So it wasn’t one of your memories ether?”>

 

“Um, no definitely not,” Tony replies and wonders what possibly could have come out of his mouth in his sleep. Steven finely pulls away and his eyes are dark although his face is carefully calm. He’s still angry, at what Tony isn’t quite sure, but he doesn’t think it’s at either of them at the moment.

 

“So are you done sleeping, because I totally am,” Tony says because he decided that this is definitely touchier feely then he wants to deal with for the day. Also with Steven practically hovering on top of him, his body is going to start getting very inappropriate ideas.

 

Steven arches an eyebrow, <“It's already mid-morning. I’ve been up for a while.”>

 

Tony blinks and takes in the rest of his surroundings to discover that yes the room is mostly flooded with sunshine. “Then why are you still naked?” Tony counters because, while Steven isn’t a prude, he almost always wears at least breaches now that Tony has provided him with a set of his own. Well at least when he’s out of bed. In bed, however, he’s as naked as Tony’s last name. Tony thinks the years of sparring with Steve are the only reason he has this much self-control. Although Tony hasn’t felt like being sexually aroused for so long now that it’s possible he just can’t function that way anymore.

 

The very lightest dusting of a blush rises on Steven cheeks and he moves back till he’s not pinning Tony down in any way, <“I decided they could use a wash, and possibly some mending. It’s not like it really matters after all since it is just the two of us out here. You have seen me naked plenty of times, after all.”>

 

_Don’t remind me,_ Tony thinks to himself. “So if it’s already mid-morning why didn’t you wake me up?” he demands aloud.

 

<“You’re still recuperating,” > Steven shrugs. < “You need sleep.”>

 

Tony doesn’t bother to hide his scowl, “I’m not superhuman but neither am I some fainting southern bell from the 1860’s.”

 

<”Tony,” > Steven starts, < “I told you –“>

 

“And I heard you. I’ll take it easy for a while and I’ll be careful but I can’t be an invalid for the rest of my life. I need to be able to do things and to rely on myself.” Tony doesn’t point out that Steven will eventually abandon him, which seems more likely than Steve showing up and carting Steven off.

 

Steven twitches then huffs out a breath, <”Well for today you can design us a swanky tree house to live in and take care of the meals. I’m going to go try my luck at hunting.”>

 

“Not your house wife Rogers,” Tony snipes. God how many times are they going to rehash the same argument?

 

<“Nope. You’re just under quarantine and making yourself useful in the meantime,” > Steven says and stands up. The man stretches shamelessly showing off everything he’s got, < “If you’d just let me bite you we wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.”>

 

“You’re worse than a dog with a bone. Just let it go. I’m not letting you bite me.” Tony replies and tosses the furs covering him aside.

 

<”Not today, no,”> Steven replies and trots toward the door. < “But being furry for a night every now and again is a lot better than being fragile.”>

 

Tony wants to give Steve an earful about how he most definitely was not in any way “fragile” but Thor chose that moment to wander into Tony’s vision. The image of the god regards Tony coolly, “Think well before you speak Man of Iron. Is it not possible that this man is pondering his own frailty before his transformation? You know of his life, have relived his memories. Is he not offering more than you are considering?”

 

Tony stays stubbornly quite, mulling over Thor’s words even as Steven leaves. Steven had thought himself human before the serum, not only that but a weak unwanted one. Oh Arnie had, in Steven’s eyes, humored him. Hanging about his place but he’d never asked about turning Steven. No, the first people who seemed to see Steven as anything other than a temporary acquaintance before the serum were Peggy and Erskine. The distance people had kept with him his whole life seemingly vanished. Howard had enlighten him as to why.

 

_< “Humans are weak, kid. They’re fragile as hell. You ever had a pet or knew someone who did? When it died you felt bad. Now think about what it would be like for someone who has a thousand year lifespan to get to know you and like you. Before, even if you lived to a hundred, they’d still have lost you and humans are a lot harder to get over than a goldfish.”>_

_< “Then why not try and turn me,”> Steven demands. Admittedly he hadn’t really wanted to be a vampire. he liked sunshine, but he would have more than entertained the offer had it been given. _

_< “With the wolf lurking under your skin? It was well back there in your blood but it still made you a no go. People couldn’t have said for certain what it was, but that sort of thing plays on instinct, so I’m told.”> Howard retorts before handing Steven over the “kite” shield, the one he had before President Roosevelt gave him the vibranium one. < “Try that out, Pup.”>_

_< “You know, I think it’s considered a racial slur when a non-werewolf calls me a Pup,”> Steven grouches as he dutifully threads his arms through the straps of the shield._

_< “Good thing for me then you have such a soft spot for technomancers,”> Howard drawls as he checks the fit._

_< “I don’t really,” > Although Steven finds technology fascinating. < “It’s more that I can smell the bloodline vamp all over you. I’d rather not start a feud over roughing you up a bit before I even have a pack.”>_

_< “You can smell Maria?”> Howard queries, clearly surprised. <“Your sense of smell must be phenomenal I haven’t seen her in a week.”>_

_< “For creatures who can’t sweat they are awfully good at scent marking their paramours then,”> Steven retorts._

_< “It’s in there saliva,” > Howard informs him with an impudent grin. < “Now get going. Don’t your have a meeting with Applegate?”>_

 

Tony shakes out of the memory and shudders. There are things he really rather not know about his parents even if they are from another dimension. He would like to know when the hell he’s going to stop remembering Steven’s memories. It’s a little unnerving. They do have to added bonus of temporarily displacing his hallucinations though.

 

This memory makes him think of something else though. The shield. Tony feels like an absolute heel for throwing it into the forest. That shield is probably the only positive physical connection left of Steven’s world and unlike Tony it’s not going to let him down.

 

He’s got to go get it, and the sooner the better; but how to get Steven to let him out to look for it?

 

(*)

That night after dinner, Tony presents Steven with a map of the island. It’s not that great, he’s not a cartographer, but its close enough for what Steven will need. ”This is our island.” He points to one of the mountains, “and this is where the books are.”

Steven blinks down at the paper and does some calculations in his head, <“If it’s a straight shot it should only take me half the day to get there and back.”>

 

“There’s a hot springs you should checkout on your way back, here,” Tony says and points to a point about halfway between the mountain and his home.

 

<“Is that your polite way of saying I stink?”> Steven enquires, looking at Tony dispassionately.

 

“I’m not the one with a super advanced sense of smell here,” Tony retorts. “But yes, despite bucket baths you do not smell like roses. Or well, I never actually cared for the smell of roses so that might be a good thing.”

 

<“Perhaps you should come with me then,”> Steven says his tone teasing. <“You could certainly use a bathing.”>

 

“No thanks I’ll boil water and take a bath the long and time consuming way,” Tony says and,  no, Steven is not looking disappointed, he is not. That is just Tony’s mind playing mean and bazaar tricks on him. “According to you I have no immune system so it’s likely unwise for me to go skinny dipping with open wounds.”

 

Steven is clearly upset that he forgot, however temporarily, that he’s the reason Tony’s life is so restricted. <“I’m sorry Tony.”>

 

“I blame the Omnivores not you Steven,” Tony says because he does. “Even if you had managed to warn me you were not yourself and I wouldn’t have believed you.”

 

“But - ,” Steven starts to object.

 

“Steven you are absolutely, perfectly blameless and I forgive you. Now let it go,” Tony says with all the righteousness he can muster. “Now, if you still feel guilty about it you can apologize by going to get those books so I have something to occupy my brain , other than drafts during my convalesce.”

 

< "Okay,” > the lycanthrope acquiesces and stands.

 

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, “Go in the morning, I don’t care if you’re practically indestructible, you need to do this in daylight.”

 

< “I wasn’t leaving now,” > Steven fibs.

 

“Sure you weren’t,” Tony humors and takes his hand off his trapezius. “What where you doing then?”

 

< “You aren’t the only one who has a bladder Tony,” > Steven pronounces.

 

“Well that’s reassuring,” Tony lets out a mock sound of relief. “And here I thought I was some sort of freak.”

 

The look that Steven gives him can be described as fond, incredibly fond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly different formatting this chapter. Did it work for you? Do you like the indicator I used for the change in time? I felt it wasn't that confusing before but what do you think? Should I keep doing it?


	10. What is history but a fable agreed upon?- Napoleon Bonaparte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Steven returns the next evening with grin on his face and the crate. <”You sir gave me terrible directions and should never be allowed to draw anything that isn’t a schematic. The hot springs, however, where wonderful.”>

 

Tony smirks from his position by the fire, “I warned you that I wasn’t a cartographer. How about I teach you how to make ink and you redraw it? I’m afraid the stuff I have is really old and it’s showing its age.”

 

<“The ink you had stored dried out didn’t it?”> Steven inquires as he places the crate on the floor. < “I thought the seals didn’t look that good.”>

 

“Trial and error,” Tony shrugs his good shoulder. “Much like my cooking skills. Lucky for you snake kabobs are nearly my specialty, it’s second only to my martinis.”

 

<“Where’d you get the snake from?”> Steven asks as he peers down at the skewers. He looks not half a suspicious as he probably is.

 

Tony doesn’t change posture in the slightest, remaining nonchalant in pose rather than defensive or aggressive. “The snake was bothering a couple of nesting birds, wanted the eggs I expect, so instead of getting dinner he became dinner.”

 

<”I had no idea you had such a soft spot for birds,”> Steven says and takes the skewer Tony hands him.

 

“Despite several of my old friends having avian code names I really don’t, they taste good though and I’d rather have a higher bird population than a reptilian one. Besides the leather from the snakes skin is a lot more useful to me than a bunch of feathers right now considering you’re using me as a pillow at night.” Tony points out.

 

Steven blushes charmingly, <“Does that bother you?”> He asks before taking a tentative bite of his dinner.

 

Tony hesitates, considering his reply. The only reason he dislikes it at all is because he’s worried about it stopping. It doesn’t matter to him that it’s entirely too warm at night and Steven is a space heater. The knowledge that there is someone actually there more than makes up for that. Waking up after the nightmares isn’t as bad, and he actually thinks he might be having less terrifying ones now. Tony can tell Steven’s aren’t as bad with him there and that’s what really counts. “It’s different,” Tony says tentatively, “but in a good way. I’ll miss it when you’ve decided you’re grown out of it, Pup.”

 

Steven flicks his ear in retaliation, <“I don’t think that’s going to happen. Don’t call me Pup.”>

 

Tony rubs at his ear, “I’ll stop when you don’t behave like one. Besides, as far as nicknames go, it’s adorable. Cuddly even. Better than 95% of mine in any case.”

 

<“Really? What are yours,” > Steven asks.

 

“Master of Machines, Golden Avenger, Armored Avenger, Spare Parts Man, Shellhead, Iron Gentleman, Metal Man, Man of Iron, Tone, Tin Man. Those are the nice ones,” Tony replies.*

 

“You forgot about 'Dad'," Peter says from the ceiling, “or Mom. It was kind of interchangeable with you.”*

 

<“Lots of metal,”> Steven points out as he twirls the empty skewer between his fingers.

 

“Yes, I used to fly around in a metal suit, saving the world,” Tony says. He ignores Peter who’s making some sort of cat’s cradle out of webbing.

 

Steven looks entirely too interested for Tony’s tastes. He’d thought he’d been ready to talk about it but when Steven says, <“I’d like to have seen that,”> Tony knows he can’t. He’d end up doing something stupid after, like breaking his promise to Steven about not leaving him here alone.

 

“So I left something for you in the hammock. It’s under the furs. I decided to shake them out today since my plans for today took a lot less time than I thought they would.” Tony says casually as he fishes the remaining skewers from the fire.

 

<”What is it?”> Steven asks. Tony just smirks and won’t be budged when Steven needles.

 

Steven, because he’s got an amazing amount of restraint, waits until supper is finished and his hands are clean before walking outside. Tony makes sure to follow so he can watch the magical moment where shield and owner are once again united. He’s not disappointed in the slightest although it’s a bittersweet thing to watch this Steve caress and examine every inch of the shield. Perhaps, not so strangely, it makes him miss his armor. He hopes the Steve of this world is keeping them out of the wrong hands, if he didn’t destroy them like he professed.

 

<”I thought he was gone,”> Steven murmurs, and that’s a twist because Steve always referred to his shield as feminine when it had a gender. Steven looks up at Tony and Tony hopes those aren’t actually tears in his eyes. The taller and broader, he’s put most of his weight back on now that he’s able to feed himself, man steps closer and wraps his arms tightly around Tony. Tony grunts in pain but enjoys the embrace, for the short amount of time he is in it before Steven pulls back looking at Tony in a mild panic. <”I reopened your wounds.”>

 

Tony doubts there’s any fooling a super soldier werewolf’s nose, so he nods. Steven, predictably, prods Tony back into the house and hustles him out of the leather. Steven grimaces at the marks that look nearly as bad as the day Tony first got them. “Not one word about you biting me.” Tony warns. “We clean them and we keep them wrapped up and we keep doing that until they heal.” Steven bites his tongue and does as asked.

 

He’s wrapping the make-do banged up when he says, <“So where all did you wander off to today because I know my shield wasn’t anywhere around the house.”>

 

“No pulling the wool over your eyes especially when you’ve taken great pains to go through everything here,” Tony says. “I admit to not knowing whether you did it out of boredom, desperation, or just out of know-thy-enemy type of logic. I actually can’t say that I care although if it was anyone else, I know I would. To answer your question though I went to the beach, and the forest because that’s where I tossed your shield when I first found it. Then I went and recovered my tools from the airship before returning here. I briefly went into the forest again to see what the birds were fussing about. Other than that I’ve been here.”

 

Steven is eerily silent as he finishes up then cleans up. Tony patiently waits him out. Steven leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. Never let it be said that Captain America, in this or any other verse, avoids eyes contact. <”So did you go out there just to retrieve my shield or was it an excuse to test your boundaries? If my shield hadn’t been out there would you still have left when I’ve told you to stay here?”>

 

Ah, this is going to go so well regardless of how Tony answers. He did anticipate it though. That “boundaries” dig has however pushed all the wrong buttons. Tony stands mirroring Steven’s crossed arms in thinly veiled irritation. “Let’s get this one thing very clear right now, Captain Rogers. One Captain America has already made this island my prison. I’m not going to let another one decrease my cell size.”

 

Steven momentary looks like he’s been punched in the gut, or possibly slapped in the face, before he rallies. <“I’m not going to let you kill yourself with carelessness Tony.”>

 

Tony, for all that he told himself he wasn’t going to, loses it, getting into Steven’s face and shouting as if he’s actually Steve. “I was careful. I’m pretty much always careful out here. I learned that lesson the hard way. For all that I have really bad days where my self-loathing alone should be enough to kill me I still keep going. Some days I keep going for all the wrong reasons, but others it’s the hope that someday I’ll get out of here. I’ll ether invent a way off this island or they’ll have some crisis big enough that they can’t afford to leave me out here. So don’t under estimate my sheer stubborn will to keep me going. I’m Iron Man, with or without a metal suit.” His face is flushed in anger and he hasn’t felt this alive in ages.

 

Steven, unexpectedly, seizes Tony in a bruising hug that traps Tony’s arms. Tony’s can’t get enough air into his lungs to protest and his struggling is pretty pathetic because he isn’t childish enough to step on Steven’s feet or knee him in the balls. Eventually Tony stops fighting, holds still, and takes short irritated breaths. Steven loosens his hold only enough that he can pull back and say ridiculously serious, <“Hello Iron Man. It’s good to finally meet you.”>

 

Tony just looks at him incredulously before a snort of laughter escapes him. It’s all over after that and he just howls with laughter, Steven loosening his hold to join in. Eventually Tony just has to lean against Steven and attempt to breath between stutters of laughter as her wipes tears away from his face. “You’re one crazy asshole sometimes Rogers, maybe almost as crazy as me.”

 

<“You’re not that crazy,”> Steven objects.

 

“I see and hear people who aren’t actually there,” Tony objects. “If I added in a couple alternate personalities I’d be on Showtime.”

 

<“Showtime,”> Steven asks. <“Is that some sort of drug?”>

 

“Oh Steven the things you’re missing,” Tony says pityingly.

 

<“I doubt any of it would be half as interesting as you,”> Steven confides warmly, he’s smiling.

 

“You may have a point there,” Tony says with a bit of his old arrogance and pulls away. “I think you’re going to have to check the bandages again. I’ve gotten hugs from Thor that weren’t that strong.”

 

<”At least I didn’t crush this,”> Steven says and taps the RT. <"Are you ever going to get around to explaining it?”>

 

“I was just waiting to see how long you were going to be polite about it,” Tony responds and goes to sit back down. He’s not up to talking about the armor today but the RT that he can handle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can’t tell this chapter kind of got away from me. I mean I had a general plan and a rock solid destination in mind. Steven and Tony however… Well let’s just say Steven started it. Steven really wanted to kiss Tony and I was like “No! No you can’t its way too soon and despite the fact that Disney owns Marvel this is not a Disney movie.” There was lots of pouting and pushing but finely I told him he could have a hug or a really big argument. When there was hesitation I threatened him with being sent home early. Needless to say hugging was suddenly the best plan ever.
> 
> Tumblr Link for this chapter  
> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/83762594160/http-marvel-wikia-com-iron-man-28anthony-22tony
> 
> Note I might have had to much coffee before this post.


	11. “It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.” ― Philip K. Dick, VALIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Schizophrenia symptoms generally first appear between ages 16 and 30, though men can have symptoms — such as hallucinations and delusions — before women do. Auditory hallucinations, in which sufferers hear voices in their heads, and unrealistic beliefs, such as possession of superpowers, are most common."  
> APA Reference  
> Stannard Gromisch, E. (2010). The Dopamine Connection Between Schizophrenia and Creativity. Psych Central. Retrieved on April 27, 2014, from http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-dopamine-connection-between-schizophrenia-and-creativity/0003505

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
>  http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
>  Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
>  There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

It's been two weeks since Tony gave Steven back his shield and Tony has thrown himself into creating whatever he can. Tonight is the full moon and Steven is on edge and unfocused. Steven’s behavior is unnerving for Tony, he’s too easily made this man his anchor, his indicator of reality. When he’s been restricted to near inactivity for extended periods of time finds that reality is too fluid. Tony desperately needs to be moored to reality.

 

Tony tells himself it’s enough, repairing tools, drafting projects, and making boards. He tells himself this all has to be done. He tells himself that it all is going to be fine. He tells himself he’s only talking to his hallucinations when Steven's too far away to hear. He tells himself he’s sleeping enough. Eating enough.

 

It’s all lies.

 

There’s actual skin over the bite marks now but it’s like the skin over a blister. He hasn’t gotten sick again but nearly every night in the last week he’s dreamt of Recorder 451 and the imminent threat of the Greys. The week before that he had three nights of brutal nightmares, the first two where Steven’s memories, and third his own memories coming back to haunt him. That itch under his skin has become a buzz that keeps him awake, thinking. Tony’s pretty sure he’s managing roughly three hours of sleep every night but he can practically feel the circles under his eyes. He’s too distracted to eat much and most food feels like lead in this stomach. Steven’s giving him worried looks all the time even though he’s plagued half the time with his own nightmares.

 

That morning Tony had gotten out of bed before the sun. He hadn’t slept at all, he just couldn’t bare lying there anymore. Lighting a lamp was out of the question as it would have woken Steven so he just walked out and stared at the nearly set moon. It was red. He wondered what was happening out there and if he could have stopped it. Not lost in thought enough not to notice that Steven had followed him outside, he just said, “I need to do something today. With the plane, not around the house.” The <“okay”> he get in reply sounds resigned.

 

They don’t speak again until Steven brings him lunch.

 

Tony puts down the screwdriver without being asked because Steven has this look on his face. Tony walks outside and sits down under a tree and eats while he waits to see if Steven will talk. He has to wait longer than expected.

 

<“I need you to tell me the fastest route to get to the far side of the island,”> Steven states and Tony nearly bites his own tongue.

 

“Well there’s not really a fast way,” Tony replies at last. “The most direct route isn’t really direct because you have to muddle your way through a swamp. The safest and longest rout is literally walking your way around the beach. There’s more but I’ll have to show you on the map and, well, there’s a lot of predators practically any way you go.”

 

<“Take a break from this and show me,”> Steven requests and indicates the remains of the craft with a jerk of his chin.

 

“Sure,” Tony responds dully. He stands, the food Steven’s brought is more than half gone, Tony hasn’t eaten this much in a single sitting in days. He holds out the left overs to Steven, “You want to finish it?"

 

<"You should,”> Steven replies.

 

“I’m stuffed, Cap and I happen to know that you’re practically a bottomless pit,*” Tony replies. Steven doesn’t actually argue but he looks like he might want to if that eyebrow furrow is anything to go by. He finishes Tony’s meal as they walk back to the hovel that is their home at present.

 

Tony shows him every way he can think of to get to the other side of the island. “I really would suggest not going through the swamp, at least not on your own the first time. I’m pretty sure I could lead you through without drowning us both in quicksand.”

 

<“I won’t go that way,”> Steven answers and walks over to pick up his shield. He’s not taking anything else, maybe he doesn’t feel entitled to it or maybe he’s actually planning on coming back. Tony could understand the first but doesn’t believe in the second.

 

Tony wants to puke. Steven’s walking out the door and Tony’s just letting him. He’s not even saying anything, it’s like this throat is frozen. _Say something!_ his mind screams at him and he opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He takes a step forward hoping the movement will unfreeze his vocal cords when Steven turns.

 

The blond looks at him for a moment then takes two steps back toward Tony. Large muscled arms wrap him up into an embrace as Steven buries his nose into Tony’s neck and shoulder, clearly sniffing him. Tony’s to slow in moving, he’s mostly too astounded to move, and Steven’s already pulling back so he’s lost his chance. Steven plants a hasty kiss to Tony’s cheek and then he’s just gone, moving with inhuman speed before Tony can even process.

 

“Well that was strange,” Tony finely says.

 

“Aye it was indeed most strange,” agrees Thor and he sounds nearly as bewildered as Tony feels.

 

“Perhaps it didn’t happen at all,” Hank offers. “Maybe you just thought it did.”

 

“Why would I-“ Tony starts to question but shuts himself up. He knows why he would. Why he did. That last interaction with Steven never happened at all, it couldn’t have. God, Steven left and he’s just losing it. Hasn’t even been five minutes.

 

“He’s going to come back,” Pepper says her tone both gentle and exasperated at once. “He needs you.”

 

“Sure he does,” Logan says. “Like a person needs a kick in the teeth.”

 

“If that person is you then they need it bad,” Peter snips from the relative safety of the ceiling to Tony’s left.

 

“Watch it Bug!” Logan snarls.

 

“Shut up!” Tony shouts covering his ears like that will help when the voices are in his own head. They keep going though, more voices chiming in until it’s hard to understand anything. Tony falls to his knees and the voices drown out the sting of it. _Why won’t they stop talking? Why is it this bad?_

 

Steve, and it is Steve not Steven if the uniform is any indication, strides to the front. He kneels so that he's almost as low as Tony, “Come on Tony, you know how to get rid of them.”

 

“Thought you didn’t want me building things,” Tony counters. He’s not sure how he’s able to distinguish Steve’s voice at all through the din.

 

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart either,” Steve tells him. “I never could handle that. Now get up and go build something.”

 

Tony staggers to his feet, “What should I make?”

 

“Something for the future,” Steve suggests and leads the way out doors. “Don’t forget Maria, Tony.”

 

“Will I need her with you around?” Tony asks but collects her all the same.

 

“Not sure that’s wise lad,” Hank McCoy cautions.

 

“Hope for the best, Tony,” Steve reminds. “Plan for the worst.”*

 

The gun feels strange in his hand as he follows Captain America out into the forest toward the beach. It feels like it’s simultaneously a hundred pounds and lighter than air. Emotionally Tony feels strangely blank, empty. He can’t even say he’s worried. Everyone is still talking raised voices and whispers, sometimes talking to him, sometimes about him. Tony has to stop and throw up because his head hurts so much from the noise and the brightly costumed people. Steve waits patiently for him to catch up. At last Tony’s back on the airship and Steve glances around, “I think you’re going to need your kiln.”

 

“You’re not wrong, Rogers, not wrong at all,” Tony agrees and sets to work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/83976117387/http-psychcentral-com-lib-the-dopamine-connection


	12. “The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four people is suffering from a mental illness. Look at your 3 best friends. If they're ok, then it's you.” ― Rita Mae Brown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
>  http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
>  Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
>  There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Tony falls asleep at two in the morning. The heat, madness, and work have sapped his energy, and despite the buzzing in his bones he can’t stay awake. He slumps into the pilot seat, the same one Steven had been in for seventy some odd years, that he set up in what passes for a workshop here on the island and closes his eyes. 

_The dream starts peacefully enough. He’s in the mansion’s library, the one it had before the place was destroyed the first time. Outside it’s raining just hard enough that you want to be indoors but not hard enough to worry about flooding. He’s on his favorite couch in front of a cheerfully crackling fire, drinking a cup of coffee and petting the great beast beside him. The big blond head is resting contentedly on his lap and its sandy tail is slapping lazily on the sofa cushions._

_“When I’m done with my coffee are you going to let me get more?” Tony questions lightly, “Or will that result in biting?” The enormous canine makes a woofing noise to voices his opinion on the matter. “That’s what I thought. How about a book?” The wolf makes a sort of huffing sound. “Excellent, I’m glad we could come to an agreement. Do you want to pick it out?” Blue eyes roll up to regard Tony, and it’s quite clear to the wolf that Tony has gone batty. “Oh, sorry, I guess it’s you’re other half that has opinions on literature. You’re just here for the pettin’s.” For a great beast it certainly does smug contentment well. However Tony could just be projecting, he’s very content himself._

_Like with most dreams gentile simplicity can be shattered in a moment and this peaceful scene is interrupted quite messily. One instant Tony is lifting his fingers from the ruff of the wolf’s neck to place them on the soft fine fur on his head and the next Steve’s shield is separating the blond head from the rest of the body. Tony, sprayed with blood and too horrified, can’t move as Steven's head, once more human now that it’s been separated from the rest of the body, is batted off Tony’s lap directly into the abruptly roaring fire._

_There’s a scream trapped in Tony’s throat that has nothing to do with physical pain as his head is involuntarily pulled back by cruel fingers in his hair. Steve’s eyes are cold and dark as he glares disapprovingly. “Did you think I’d let you keep him? I don’t reward bad behavior and you are not where I left you.”_

_“You killed him,” Tony hears himself accuse as if the blood dripping off his face isn’t proof enough. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”_

_“Of course he did,” Steve says and he drags Tony over the back of the couch. Tony swears that he’s cutting his hair the next chance that he gets. How did he let it get this long anyways? He lands on the floor hard before he’s jerked to his feet. “He was trying to replace me. I won’t be replaced.”_

_“Stop!” Tony shouts even though he knows it will do no good. Steve is hauling his steadily toward the door and Tony knows without a doubt that he doesn’t want to go outside where something fare worse than a thunderstorm awaits him. His slightly better than pitiful tempts to get free are practically ignored. “Why are you doing this?”_

_“You’re not where you belong,” Steve retorts briskly._

_“I don’t belong out there,” and on the surface it's true but under that he knows he really does. The door opens before them and Steve pulls him out into the deepest part of the island’s marsh. Steve tossed him into a grimy puddle, upsetting a brightly colored serpent that bites Tony in retaliation. Tony can’t pull the reptile off and is dismayed to watch it grow larger and larger as it wraps it’s self around Tony and squeezes._

_Steve uses his still bloody shield to decapitate the snake and pulls the coils from Tony before tossing them away. “That won’t keep it from coming back you know. It’s going to swallow you whole.”_

 

(*)

 

Tony wakes, his heart galloping at what feels like a million miles a minute. His whole body is slick with sweat and there’s a metallic taste in the back of his throat. On shaky legs he stumbles outside and breaths in fresh air until he doesn’t feeling like being sick anymore. Outside it’s still dark but Tony can make out the thick clouds overhead that promise one hell of a rain storm.

 

“You need to lay in more supplies if you want to wait it out here,” Steve says from beside him, hands in the pockets of his brown leather coat.

 

“Why are you here?” Tony asks, not will to look fully at him.

 

“I’m making everyone else leave you alone until you get some more work done. Remember, you’re the backup plan,” Steve chides. “Right now you don’t have much to bring to the table.”

 

“Given the dream I just had I don’t really feel like being your backup plan.” Tony says but starts walking.

 

“You’ll pull through for me,” Steve says, sounding too certain of that fact. “You always do.”

 

“Yet you don’t agree with the means by which I achieve your ends,” Tony retorts.

 

“True, but a spoon will cut through a rope eventually,” Steve retorts.

 

“If I’m an inadequate tool for the job find somebody else,” Tony spits.

 

“You forget that I didn’t pick you in the first place,” Steve says. “He chose you.”

 

Tony stops dead as Recorder 451 appears in front of him, “You’re running out of time Mr. Stark. Complete your primary directive.”

 


	13. “One can only see what one observes, and one observes only things which are already in the mind.”― Thomas Harris, Red Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

It’s raining cats and dogs outside, figuratively speaking, like it has for the past three, four, days? Tony’s not sure. He’s lost count because days don’t matter to him now. Everything has disappeared in the desperate all-consuming drive to build… something. Awful and disjointed, too much and never enough. Never done. Unfinished. God he doesn’t even know what it is. He’s never been this far down the rabbit hole while working and anytime he thinks about stopping, or sleep, Steve is there. If it’s not Steve it’s 451. He almost doesn’t know who the worse apparition is.

 

Tony, part of him at least, is terrified that he’s never going to snap out of this. Is he just going to keep working until he passes out only to wake up later to go right back to work? Or will he pass out over the forge and burn? God he can practically smell the burning flesh. Oh, he forgot that piece hadn’t been in the water that long. He should stop and wrap that up. Damn maybe not there’s Steve again. Naked bearded Steve, new look for any of his hallucinations. Moves fast, nearly a blur, or maybe that’s Tony’s eye sight. Probably not. Bizarre. Tony can feel Steve’s hands, cold, wet and strong, that’s new.

 

Steve is speaking, “You need to keep working, Tony” The words don’t match the movements of those perfect lips and Tony swears he hears an odd audio track underneath. He can’t understand it.

 

He can’t understand much of anything, really. Everything is distant, fading. Color is being leeched from the world as it shifts on its axis.

 

Everything is dark.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Everything is loud. Is he stuck in a hurricane or is Thor in a pissing match with Storm? There are drums. There are screams. There are pleas. There are tears. Something rings, unpleasantly shrill.

 

Everything fades.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Everything burns. His body is roasting in the forge. There are knives slicing into him. Someone is trying to lobotomize him with a screwdriver while holding his head in a too tight vise.

 

Everything reduce to nothing.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Everything is gone. No light. No sound. No tears. No metal. No water. No food. No body. No fire. No island. No thought. Blank. Black. Purgatory.

 

Everything ends.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A scratch of beard. Brush of lips. A pleasing scent. A reminder. <”You promised you wouldn’t abandon me.”> A breath.

 

Everything returns.

 

 

 


	14. “The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted.”― Thomas Harris, Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
> Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

Tony can hear birds. Lots of really happy, annoyingly chipper birds. Tony thinks that maybe he should have let the snake have the eggs and taken the fowl home for dinner that day. He knows with his eyes shut that the sun is high in the sky and it will hurt like a bitch to open them. His throat is distressingly dry and his stomach feels like a black hole. The headache, dehydration, and starvation all feel like a drop in a bucket compared to the rest of his body. His muscles are sore and he thinks some of them might actually be pulled, there is pain with every breath he takes that tells him some ribs are broken, and the sharp burning pain in his bladder suggests both a desperate need to piss and a urinary tract infection. So much as twitching his right hand causes pain and, more alarming, a lack of feeling in certain areas.

 

Tony groans because he suspects that actual words to express his displeasure will hurt too much to form.

 

To his left he can hear and feel a disturbance as a body shifts. <”Tony, you awake?”> The question is spoken in a low voice, clearly to prevent him waking if he were actually sleeping. Tony doesn’t think he’s up to a verbal answer quite yet and a grunt won’t be very convincing. Bracing himself mentally, but not physically because that would make all the pain worse, he attempts to open his eyes. They’re glued shut by what feels like a ton of eye gunk. He grunts after all before carefully sorting out his left hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. The skin on his face feels like it’s a freshly peeling sunburn.

 

The breath that Steven lets out sounds shaky and deeply relieved. A big, warm hand clasps his and pulls it away from his face. There's another shifting movement and there’s a forehead pressed gently against his and surprisingly not fowl breath in his face as Steven says, “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

 

Tony’s eyes fly open of their own accord and Steven’s actually too close to focus on at first but it looks like him. His hair is over grown and greasy, the same with his beard and his skin is as tanned as it’s possible for it to get. This looks like Steven and he feels solid enough but Tony needs to be very sure. He has a disturbing memory of that mouth moving but the words not matching up.

 

“What did you say?” Tony rasps out. Oh yes, that hurt only about twice as bad as he thought it would.

 

“I said 'Don’t ever do that to me again' and I mean it,” Steven repeats and pulls back about an inch so Tony can better see his stern expression.

 

“English,” Tony accuses. He never thought he would hate the language but right now he practically loathes it because, even though the words are matching up and the accent is different, it’s just to close.

 

Steven frown, clearly concerned, “I told you that I know how. Did you forget?”

 

Tony shakes his head minutely. “Don’t speak English. You sound... like him and I can’t…” Tony takes a shaky breathe. “I can’t right now.”

 

Steven’s expression is at first pained then angry before settling into something terribly gentle. He detangles his fingers from Tony’s hand and carefully touches Tony’s face. <”I’m not him,”> Steven promises gently but with conviction.

 

Tony gives his an incredibly weak half smile, “Good to hear.” He’s as certain as he feels he can be for right now. <”Water?”>

 

Steven raises and eyebrow at Tony’s language shift but doesn’t comment. He fetches Tony water then helps him up to drink it. Once Tony’s drank as much as he thinks he can handle he says, <”Okay, I would normally hate to admit it but right now I don’t give a damn, I’m not going to make it outside to piss without your help.”>

 

Steven doesn’t say a word, just helps him up. Urinating is incredibly painful as is always the case with UTIs and to add another level to the humiliation Steven literally has to hold him upright all through it. Tony decides he’s just going to have to not care. Steven’s seen worse in the war than a man pissing blood. On the way back to the house Tony observes the devastation, <“How long ago did the rain stop? Two days ago?”>

 

<“Three,”> Steven replies. <“It’s a good thing we patched the roof and filled in that hole in the wall. I understand why you built the house on stilts now too.”>

 

<”Garden is gone but there will be lots of good soil to plant a new one,”> Tony says amiably. <”It’s a good thing you’re a better then decent hunter or we might starve to death.”>

 

<”Don’t joke about dying Tony,”> Steven advises and he sounds nearly desperate. <”I… I can’t think about that right now or I’ll do something unforgivable.”>

 

Tony doesn’t question he just nods in agreement. Steven gets him back into bed. The two of them spend the day in close proximity, Tony for once not complaining in the slightest about being fussed over and actually asking for help. Steven reads aloud from Swiss Family Robinson and all serious conversation is vetoed for the day by unspoken agreement.

 

That night though, after dark, when they're settled in to sleep, Steven breaks that silent truce. <“Don’t get sick again Tony. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from biting you next time,”> Steven warns, sounding deadly serious.

 

<“You wouldn’t,”> Tony retorts he has absolute faith that Steven would stop himself. <“Also I’m too much of a stubborn dick to die, so relax.”>

 

<“You died two days ago,”> Steve retorts.

 

“What?” Tony says forgetting himself and slipping into English for the first time since that morning.

 

<”You stopped breathing and when I couldn’t get you to start again your heart stopped,”> Steven replies. <”Don't tell me you didn’t notice the broken ribs from the chest compressions.”>

 

<”Oh I noticed, noticing still, thanks. The R.T. node should have kept my heart going,”> Tony objects.

 

<”It went dark like all the power was gone,”> Steven replies softly, like he doesn’t want to admit it.

 

<”Impossible,”>Tony persists.

 

<”Well it happened. I’m not lying. I’m telling you what I saw, and I know. You were dead Tony. For three minutes you left me alone and you promised you wouldn’t do that Tony.”> Steven says. Tony eyes are accustomed enough to the dark and with the added light of the thankfully glowing R.T. node he can see how carefully controlled Steven is keeping himself, just like his voice. <”Promised.”> The blond repeats accusingly. He’s trying to hide how upset he is by masking everything but Tony can see right through it to the young man who is undeniably terrified.

 

Tony swallows and reaches out with his good hand, he hasn’t asked about his right hand but he’s got a fuzzy memory and a good idea. He touches Steven’s face like Steven had done to him this morning and there is the slightest of trembles under his fingers. <”Alright,”> Tony says then swallows before clarifying the statement. <“Alright if something happens and there is no other choice you have my permission to attempt a turning on one other condition.”>

 

<”Name it.”> Steven commands.

 

<”You are never to suggest it again no matter what. I’m tired of talking about it.”> Tony replies evenly.

 

Steven sighs out in relief, <“Yeah, okay. I think I can do that.”>

 

<”You should be able to. It’s an easy request, not like if I asked you to stay here with me for the rest of my life,”> Tony huffs. <“Or even not to take off again without any explanation.”>

 

<”I’m sorry about that,”> Steven apologizes and Tony can practically feel the remorse like sand paper against his skin.

 

<”Don’t apologize Steven. I don’t even like being around myself on my bad days, why should I expect you to?”> Tony admits, starring up at the roof.

 

<”You thought I left to get away from you because I didn’t want to put up with you?”> Steven probes. Tony doesn’t reply just continues to stare at the ceiling. A warm had settles on his shoulder but Tony still refuses to look. <“Tony look at me.”>

 

Tony seriously thinks about ignoring the request but realizes that will just make him look more childish. He turns his head putting on his most annoyed face, the one he uses on Deadpool or particularly uncooperative experiments, and says <“Aren’t we supposed to be trying to sleep?”> Because avoidance is the adult solution to uncomfortable situations.

 

<“We will after you listen to me,”> Steven assures.

 

<”I’m listening then Captain,”> Tony retorts with enough insolence to get the nostril flare of irritation.

 

<”Good. I did leave to get away from you,”> Steven pronounces in a matter-of-fact manner. Tony feels a little like he’s been punched in the gut despite that fact that he knew it was the truth. He just kind of expected Steven to lie about it. <“It was not because I wanted to leave you or that you were getting on my nerves. I left because I wanted to protect you.”>

 

<“Protect me?”> Tony’s incredulity is quite plain. <”From what? A sound, well deserved, scolding?”>

 

<“No, Tony, don’t be difficult,”> Steven huffs. <”I’ve been changing every full moon for over seventy years, my body and mind are more accustomed to shifting with the moon. I actually wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stop myself. I didn’t want leave, I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn’t risk it.”>

 

<”Oh,”> Tony says the tension he built up slipping away. <”So did you change?”>

 

<“I started to but I managed to halt the process.”> Steven admits. <”I’m going to try and go as long as I can without changing but we really need to finish building our new home. Sooner rather than later.”>

 

<”Yeah, that would be good,”> Tony says. <”I think I cast some new tools…definitely a hammer.”>

 

<”You don’t remember what you were doing?”> Steven asks. <”Do you even know what you were working on?”>

 

<”No, not really,”> Tony admits. <“Remember I told you I had bad days? Well this time I had a bad day, lots of metal, and no one to stop me”>

 

<”I should have pushed that damned machine into the ocean,”> Steven snarls.

 

<”I’ll probably change your mind on that eventually but I don’t think it would have helped,”> Tony sighs. <”Actually, having it might have kept me alive. I’ve had bad days before but it’s never been that bad. If I hadn’t had something to work with… it would have been worse.”> It’s hard to imagine, even for Tony, but just remembering the feeling makes him want to dig his fingers into his skin to get at the phantom buzzing underneath.

 

<”I’m not sure I can imagine worse. It took me four days to get back to you with all that rain. I couldn’t smell you I had a hard time even finding my way home.”> Steven admits and he touches Tony’s face. <”The way you looked at me.”> The glow of the R.T. node casts the lines of regret into sharp relief.

 

<“I didn’t know it was you,”> Tony rushes to tell him because that look is awful to see. <“I couldn’t even hear you.”>

 

<”You thought I was **Him** ,”> Steven acknowledges bitterly. <“That other me, the one who belongs here.”>

 

<”Nobody belongs here,”> Tony rolls his eyes. <“You belong in nineteen forties Brooklyn with a mate and a litter of pups in another world. I, well, at the moment I belong in a hospital.”>

 

<”He deserves to be here. For leaving you here he deserves to be here,”> Steven says vehemently. <”You should be back in New York.”>

 

<“Nice of you to say but I can’t agree. I’ve done some awful things Steven. I built a device that destroyed another world and if I had to again I would push the button. As much as I hate it here it’s both safer for me than any prison and a lot harder for me to escape. That said, if Steve’s and my positions were reversed I wouldn’t have left him here. If someone else had I would have flown out here to save him. Not sure I would do the same now though.”>

 

<”I think you would.”> Steven utters.

 

<”Bless you and your unwavering yet unfounded faith in me.”> Tony mutters. <“Now let’s get some sleep some of us are recovering from a very out dated version of CPR administered by a super solider.”>

 

<”It’s not unfounded Tony,”> Steven retorts. <“You just can’t see you the way I do.”>

 

<”You either have Stockholm syndrome or… what’s the name of the one where people fall in love with their rescuers? Not that I think that you’re in love with me just...”> Tony sighs. <“I see people and you’re clearly delusional. It’s like the blind leading the one eyed man as long as that blind man isn’t Matt Murdock and the one eyed man isn’t Fury in the allegory.”>

 

<“I knew a Fury but I don’t have a clue who Matt Murdock is. I think you need to sleep Tony, so we can leave our discussion here. Stop trying to convince me you’re a bad person though,”> Steven requests gently, most of the distress absent from his hansom features once more. He moves about until he can lean up and press a kiss to Tony’s forehead. <”Of all the people I could choose from to be stuck on any island with you’re the very top of the list. The same goes for the syndromes.”>

 

 _'My hallucinations are getting way to good.'_ Tony settles more deeply into the furs and closes his eyes.  <G’night Steven.”>

 

<”Good night Tony.”>

 


	15. “I'm doing one of three things: I'm writing. I'm staring out the window. Or I'm writhing on the floor.” ― Thomas Harris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry that this is late. Unfortunately my computer was being repaired for the last couple of weeks so this might be the last post for a while. As soon as I've written a few more chapters I will post more. 
> 
> Beta: AbiDabiDoki  
>  http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki  
>  Thank you so freaking much!
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
>  There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

_Tony’s being squeezed by an anaconda as Steve watches placidly from less than a foot away. “I’m going to escape it and this island,” Tony vows and makes good on freeing himself from the snake with a repulsor blast. The snake falls to ash on the ground._

_Steve laughs in his face at the small victory. “You’d have to escape your cage first.” Steve steps back revealing the thick bars of the box cage he’s in. “You’re a monster Tony, and monsters belong in cages.”_

_The repulsor is suddenly gone and Tony throws himself at the bars of the cage, they're only tree trunks after all, and snarls at Steve like he actually is some sort of beast. “If I’m a monster then so are you. Where is your cage?”_

_“The part of me that belongs in a cage is already locked up with you,” Steve says and points to something behind Tony. He turns and looks down at the pulsing, rotting object that resembles a heart._

_There’s something squirming inside and as Tony watches the ventricles burst open like an over ripe fruit, spilling forth a mess of sleek dark asps. Tony thinks for a moment that they’re going to go after him but they don’t. Horrified he watches them slither to Steven. Tony attempts to throw himself after them, to stop them, because he knows they’re about to do something awful, he can feel it in his gut but Steve stops him with one forearm over his throat forcing him back against the bars. Tony struggles but can’t break Steve’s iron grip. Tony can’t do anything but watch and shout as the serpents overwhelm Steven until the other man can only open his mouth to scream. Then they slither down his throat. Tony swears he can feel it, the invasion, in his own body. It’s throttling him more than Steve’s arm._

_“You can’t keep him Tony, and if you try I’ll do worse than just kill him,” Steve hisses cruelly into his ear. “You belong to me.”_

Tony wakes sucking in desperate breaths as he fights panic and nausea, even as he clutches at his throat. He feels like he’s choking even though air flows into his lungs easily enough considering his broken ribs. Steven hovers over him, the worry and compassion comforting rather than grating for the moment. Carefully, Tony reaches out his better hand to touch him. The other man is reassuringly solid.

 

<”I’m okay. Nightmares again.”> Tony admits. His voice doesn’t waver and he feels proud of that fact. Small victories.

 

<”If I ever see this world’s me I’m going to break a bone for every one of the nightmares he’s given you.”> Steven vows.

 

<”There aren’t enough bones in the body for that even if you broke them all twice,”> Tony’s attempt at humor falls flat. Practically without permission Tony’s fingers skim over Steven’s throat and he hears himself confessing, <“I hope he never comes with in ten feet of you.”>

 

<”You don’t want me to hurt him,”> Steven sounds illogically betrayed and he pulls back.

 

<”Other way around,”> Tony clarifies and Steven halts. <”I know he’s not the fiend my dreams are making him out to be. He wouldn’t do anything but make sure you aren’t a Skrull, that’s a type of alien by the way, and take you back to New York until he could find a way to send you home. Apparently my unconscious mind doesn’t give a damn about that though.”>

 

<”You’re dreaming about him hurting me?”> Steven asks wonderingly.

 

<“Yeah, stupid I know,”> Tony sighs and pulls his hand away from Steven to rub the grit from his eyes. Now that he’s awake he feels guilty for waking Steven up. Four days ago Steven told Tony that the R.T. node had gone dark, so he had died six days ago. Tony’s pretty sure Steven hasn’t even slept for twelve hours accumulatively since then. Werewolf super soldier or not he needs to be sleeping. <”He really wouldn’t hurt you.”>

 

Steven shifts so that he’s lying propped on his side next to Tony, one arm bracing his head so the other is free fuss with the furs and check Tony’s ribs. Whatever rebooted the R.T. seems to have scrambled whatever was done to it before he was brought to the island; it seems to be back in perfect working order, enhanced healing and all. Steven had been heartened by the rapid improvement in Tony’s injuries. For his part Tony is wary, the hallucination of Steve is always close by, quietly brooding.

 

<“If he came and took me away it would hurt me.”> Steven admits at last as his hand goes to rest on Tony’s shoulder.

 

<”What?”> Tony’s caught off guard by the confession. <”No it wouldn’t. Unless you’re somehow mystically anchored here, in which case how do you know and why didn’t you tell me? ”>

 

Steven gives Tony a rueful smile, <“He’d be taking me away from you. That would hurt me.”>

 

<”Nice of you to say but I’m sure you’d recover quickly,”> Tony ripostes and starts moving. <“I need to pee.”> Out of the corner of his eye Steve shifts to stand, he follows Tony around even more faithfully then Steven.

<”Tony,”> Steven has that tone in his voice, the ‘listen to what I’m saying’ tone.

 

Tony doesn’t want to listen to it right now. Probably not ever. even at his most masochistic of moments he would never do this to himself. Steven's time with him is temporary. Tony knows that, has always known it. Steve will come and take him away or Steven will just vanish as suddenly as he arrived. Tony is destined to be alone and one day, one way or the other, Tony’s going to lose him. He should make it easier for Steven to go when the time comes. <“Steven I still have a bladder infection, I really do need to piss right now.”>

 

<”You can urinate and listen to what I have to say then,”> Steven says and gets out of bed right behind Tony.

 

 _'It’s a pretty good thing I’ve mostly given up on having pride as well as privacy. I have to stop this though, if not for his sake then for mine.'_ <”Actually I think it’s about time I give you a history lesson,”> Tony counters as he strides outdoors. Steve scowls at Steven as the man that is actually here follows. <“I think I’ll start with world government at the end of World War II and go from there.”>

 

Tony’s once more enhanced sense have no trouble at all picking out Steven’s indignant snort. <”Tony I don’t need to know-“>

 

<”Yes, you do,”> Tony snaps so viciously that it actually physically hurts. Damn ribs. <”You’re making judgments about me, the type of person I am, without adequate data. I can’t allow you to have feelings for me without you knowing what I’ve done. The type of person I am.”>

 

<“I know what type of person you are Tony.”> Steven protests, close on Tony’s heels.

 

Tony can practically feel Steven’s hand reaching out to halt him. He turns smacking it away with his still recovering right hand. It smarts and Tony uses the sting of it to add bite to his tone when he counters. <”No, you really don’t or we wouldn’t need to be having this conversation. I know you generally have a pretty good instinct about people, nice perk of your enhanced lycanthropy that, but I’m pretty sure it’s broken or it’s just not working when it comes to me.”>

 

<”Would you stop trying to convince me you’re a bad person? You’ve done some questionable things, but you aren’t evil,”> Steven’s snapping now, his temper starting to get the better of him.

 

“He’s right Tony. You’re not evil,” Hallucination Steve agrees. “Misguided, arrogant, selfish, and destructive, sure, but not actually evil.”

 

<”I never said I was,”> Tony spouts throwing up his hands in an attempt to forestall either of his companions input. <”I have done some things that could be considered immoral though.”>

 

“Well that’s not vaguely sugar coating it at all,” Steve huffs. “Or did you forget what you let your friends do to me?”

 

Tony fights back the sick feeling he’s had sense he woke. <”I did things to Steve that are unforgivable.”> He admits it quietly because, despite every single life he has on his hands, it’s his betrayal of Steve that damns him. Yes, he feels betrayed by Steve because that man had owned this island for years just for the purpose of imprisoning Tony. He feels let down by every one of his so called “friends” for not even trying to stop Steve. No matter how angry and hurt he feels about their disloyalty it’s his own actions that he can’t stand.

 

<”Like what?”> Steven questions his voice strained like he wants to snap but he’s holding back to keep things from escalating.

 

In consideration of Steven’s own attempt to defuse the moment Tony takes a painful yet calming breath before answering. <”Over the years I did a lot of things. The most recent one though was allowing his memories to be stolen. There was also a whole hell of a lot of lying and manipulation afterwards to cover that up, too,”> Tony states, Steven looks a little surprised but not offended yet. <”You’ve been judging Steve for leaving me here and I’ve been letting you which isn’t right. If you want to tell me how you feel, fine, but it has to wait until after I tell you what you need to know.”>

 

“Are you really going to tell him everything? Are you sure you’re even capable of being that honest?” Steve challenges. Tony’s eyes flick over to him nearly against his will. He looks miserable. Tony looks away. “Maybe if you can be honest with someone your lies will stop eating you alive.”

 

Steven is scrutinizing Tony closely, his body tense. <”If you're going to explain things to me then you’re telling me everything.”> He says at last. <”You’re not just telling me the minimum to paint you in a bad light. I want everything Tony. The good and the bad and everything you know that may or may not be contextually relevant. Don’t lie, not even a little bit. If you try I’ll call you on it.”>

 

Tony nearly says that he wasn’t planning to but realizes that that would have been a lie. This is going to actually be harder than he thinks. Finally he nods, <“Alright. You know this is going to take a while though. I met Steve around fifteen years ago, you couldn’t boil all that time down to fifteen hours and do it justice.”>

 

<”Don’t boil it, that’s not was I asked for. Also we’ve got practically all the time in the world out here,”> Steven says.

 

 _‘Truer words have never been spoken hypothetically speaking.’_ <”Fine now can I pee in peace?”> Tony asks snippily.

 

<”Don’t know, can you?”> Steven arches an eyebrow.

 

<”On the sass scale that was weak,”> Tony retorts and continues on to his original destination.


	16. We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.- John Dryden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'd to dedicate this chapter to my Beta AbiDabiDoki who struggle though this chapter even more then i struggle writing it. You can see her works at the address listed below. I would also like to dedicate this chapter to Herbeloved82 for just being such an amazing cheerleader. Honestly this chapter very nearly didn't happen. It's my hope that you will not have to wait so long for the next chapter.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/AbiDabiDoki/pseuds/AbiDabiDoki
> 
> Things that are quoted are marked with a *  
> There will be a link to my Tumbler in the end notes with the data I have which in some cases isn't much.

The tree house, that truly puts any Disney movie arboreal home to shame, is nearly complete. Tony’s design included a second bedroom, and it has even been built, but Steven refuses to designate it as anything other than the library. The man has even taken it upon himself to add shelves to the walls. There’s a dining room, a den, kitchen, pantry, a small sprouting room, a drafting and art room, a wash room, and even a deck. The entire structure spans across three sizable trees with appropriate walkways. Their new home is perhaps excessive for two bachelors with absolutely no anticipation of guests in the near future. However, he is Tony Stark and if he’s going to build a home for Steven Rogers it’s going to be the best one he can possibly make with the available resources. 

 

Steven is marginally better about his mother-hen behavior since Tony started relaying his history, and history in general, over the weeks they’ve been working on their new domicile. Now that the whole wonderful and awful history is out there, he’s relieved. Somehow actually telling someone everything has put some things in perspective for himself. Steven probably would have made a pretty decent therapist in another universe with all his insightful question. Or maybe an expert interrogator. 

 

Tony finds it surprisingly they only had two arguments about what Tony has done in the past, both of them boiling down to two things. First, that Tony should never have hidden things from Steve no matter how much it might have hurt or angered him. Second, about Tony simultaneous superiority complex when it comes to humanity in general and his inferiority complex when it comes to this world’s Captain America. The words “hero”, “worship”, and “pedestal” had be thrown around and Tony is really glad that Steven is never ever going to see the “Cap Tribute Room”.  

 

The latter part of the argument had happened two days ago and wasn’t exactly resolved. Steven, unexpectedly, has a better hold on his temper than Steve. It never once came to blows which would have ended the conversation much more satisfyingly then Steven storming off to go on a long walk. Tony tells himself he is not at all disappointed that his old tactic for riling the other man up so much he hits Tony fails epically, if the quick hug before Steven left was anything to go by. Tony’s come to the conclusion that the person he’s best at lying to is himself. Both of them are still prickly about the fight and have been working on projects that keep the other in sight but not in easy speaking distance since. 

 

Tony stretches, arms over his head, relishing the relief as joints pop and muscles lengthen or contract as they take on new positions. He feels strangely calm today, nearly at peace, and the island seems to be in agreement. The sky is a bright blue, not a hint of rain, and the coolness suggest that they are heading into the “winter” months. Steven is humming and intermittently singing  Here We Are , (Tony only knows it’s that song because he’s got a distinct set of Steven’s memories in which Mrs. Rogers sang the tune while around the house.) as he continues to thatch the roof over what will be their bedroom so perhaps he is picking up on the wellbeing of the day as well. Given past experience he shouldn’t be surprised that it is merely the calm before the storm. 

 

Tony’s been working on the retractable stairs most of the day and he’s about to give them a test run when, seemingly, every bird on the island shrieks and takes to the sky if they are able. If the sudden stirring of the wildlife wasn’t indication enough that trouble is afoot Tony can feel the change in the electrical field thanks to the R.T. node. Steven lands gracefully beside him as if he wasn’t 260 pounds of solid muscle that leapt down from a fifty foot height. The blonde is collecting his shield within the next few moments and slinging it over his bare shoulders. Steve, the hallucination that is Tony new constant companion, looks approvingly at his other self’s actions.

 

For the most part Tony tries to ignore the fact that rather than the random assemblage of his old friends that used to be his sporadic companions this now only Steve. He also tries to ignore the fact that from the time that Tony’s started seeing his old friend the hallucination has never actually left. <”Did you see what happened from your perch there ,  Winghead?”> Tony inquires. Steven grimaces at slip and Steve out right scowls at Tony giving Steven one of his nicknames. 

 

<”No, only the direction,”> Steven replies, his gaze turned steadily toward the far side of the island. <“But there’s definitely something amiss.”>

 

<”Then lead on Captain Obvious,”> Tony offers with a somewhat cheeky grin. Steven hesitates only a second before briskly nodding and taking off at a good pace.  Tony’s relieved, he’d half expected that Steven would try to get him to stay behind. They both forget to take Tony’s gun. With Steven always so close by he hasn’t needed to have it. Steven is the biggest predator here and all the animals with any sense know it.

 

As they move ahead, smaller animals scurry from their path. The closer they get to the disturbance the quieter their surroundings become. Tony loses sight of Steven as he dashes around the trunk of yet another large tree that the island is well populated with. As Tony rounds the tree there is about half a second to take in his altered surrounding before he’s smacking firmly into Steven’s back. Steven barely moves and Tony has to catch himself to keep from falling.

 

<”Tony, where are we?”> Steven asks because it’s just as clear to the super soldier that they are not where they should be.

 

Tony looks around at their surroundings that have a striking resemblance to the terrain of Dagoba. He blinks a few times, just to be certain, then says <“We’re on the island still. I used to live quite close to this swamp. Come on I’ll prove it, step where I do and you shouldn’t get into any trouble.”> It takes Tony less than ten minutes to lead the way out of the bog. The snakes and frogs are just as plentiful and colorful as he remembers. The crotchety old snap turtle is even still in his same haunt. <“We really shouldn’t be here you know. In the geographical sense I mean although possibly in the “we should have let well enough alone” kind of sense too. I could have sworn I killed that turtle. Maybe it a magical turtle? I can’t believe I just contemplated that out loud. Anyway back to the relevant part of this conversation. This part of the island should be a good two day hike from our tree house.”>

 

<”How are we here then?”> Steven questions. He’s tense, ready for a fight that Tony’s not sure he shouldn’t be prepared for. <“Also did you get the memory of that talking turtle I once met?”>

 

<”Dimensional distortion possibly temporal too do it seem earlier in the day to you?”> Tony offers up, although he’s not really sure that’s it at all. The world just doesn’t feel quite right. <”And no, but I have a feeling I wish I had. Tell me about it some time that is not now.”>

 

Steven looks up at the sky that looks too bright for a day that was getting close to dusk before. <”it’s definitely earlier in the day here. I don’t like this Tony. In my world there were magics that could take you from one place to another in a moment but they were only known to those who were the oldest of the old. Time manipulation, outside of the fey homelands, has been globally outlawed for longer than recorded history and anyone who has succeeded at it has been publicly executed.”>

 

<”I’m not even sure how many times I’ve been jerked around in time, less than Steve I’m sure. Now as alarming as that is, I’m more worried about the cause and why my… our little island is such a hotspot. This is the island though. There’s a cave through those trees that was my first not a tent home here.”>

 

Steven wrinkles his nose, <“It smells different here. Like rotting fruit.”>

 

Tony sniffs the air himself and realizes that it does smell a tad different. There are also a great deal more mosquitoes. <”There are fruit trees somewhat close by. It’s probably the reason Steve thought this would be a good stretch of island to leave me on.”> Steven emits one of his low inhuman growls but says nothing. He’s mentioned Steve twice in as many minutes and Tony can’t help but remember that any mention of the man makes Steven cranky. Tony decides it would be prudent not to mention anything else about the man for the rest of the day if he can help it. 

 

“You can’t get me out of your head Tony, I’m not going anywhere,” The hallucination of Steve retorts calmly, like he’s bored and possibly a little smug.

 

The cave is where it should be and that it about the only reassuring thing about finding it. There are foot prints in the dirt, lots of them, and most of them are not his size. Tony also doesn’t remember having left the lamp Steven finds near the entrance nor should it have been so recently used if he had. He doesn’t remember carving a tiny Iron Man helmet on the side ether. Tony tries to tell himself that his brain is not what it used to be or that maybe he’s blocked out some memories. Life on this half of the island hadn’t been the best and when he’d last left it he was still hobbling on the worst excuse for a crutch ever seen. 

 

Tony has pretty much daily experience with lighting fires and Steven’s no slouch at it either and they light the lamp quickly. He knows there shouldn’t still be oil left in it if he left it here before but there is. Tony doubts his reality constantly, Steven really is a little too good to be true, and so he speculates in the back of his mind if he’s more out of his head now or when he last left this place. He’s about to venture into the cave when Steven stops him with a hand on his shoulder and goes in first. Tony allows it only because he’s not stupid and Steven will survive any possible fights there are to be had. The man is practically immortal after all and Tony suspects Steven will probably want to hit something soon.

 

<“What is this?”> Steven queries softly, pointed to a string of numbers scratched onto the rock with charcoal.

 

<“Some people would use hatch marks to count the numbers of days, I used equations or whatever number I was up to in pi.”> Tony shrugs. 

 

<“Looks like you gave up on doing that pretty fast,”> Steven frowns. Giving up isn’t in Tony’s nature, although he’s learned to pick his battles better, and Steven knows it.

 

“Wait until you get to the main part of the cave,” Tony mutters under his breath, although he knows perfectly well Steven can hear him clearly. They travel deeper into the cave and there are more strings of numbers and more equations. He doesn’t remember some of them and he actually has to stop and stare at one of them that would have won him an argument with Reed about causality. There is no way he could have forgotten that, no matter how delirious he’d become when his leg was busted.  

 

The facts of the matter are to convincing for Tony to deny any more unless this all is a really vivid fantasy. They’re still on the island just not quite in the right world for him and probably Steven as well. He’s about the share his deduction aloud when he notices that the blonde hasn’t stopped. Tony scowls and presses onward until he comes upon Steven standing quite still in the dark due to the fact that Tony’s had the lamp. 

 

There’s a body on the floor.

 

<“What the hell,”> Tony exclaims and begins to bend down to get the light closer when Steven stops him by placing a hand firmly on his chest.

 

<”Don’t, Tony, corpses carry disease,”> Steven warns the slightest of waver in his voice. There’s something else in his tone that despite all his experience with this man he can’t quantify. In the dim light Tony can’t make out his expression either. Annoyed, he jerks back and walks over to the wall; looks like this worlds him actually finished the project he abandoned project. <“Tony what are you doing?”>

 

<“Turning on the lights,”> Tony snaps and dunks the burning oil into the trough. The oil trough that fallows the cavern wall ignites even as Steven implores him not too. The walls are covered in tightly packed diagrams and equations. Most of them are in his hand, he can tell, but the others have the styling and script of Reed Richards.  He and Reed have been friends long enough for him to recognize that scrawl of equations and the stiff rigidity of lines without a second glance.

 

On the wall, closest to the body that he distantly notes is his own, are the single most beautiful, yet awful, things Tony’s seen in 2D. Its two machines. One is done mostly in charcoal and lacks elegance, which makes Tony think that it’s Reeds work. Tony sure it a devise to open portals to other worlds but there’s something trickier in there. Something about time and earth rotations that he will focus on later. There is something a little worrying about the schematic but the other diagram pulls his eyes toward it before he can pin down the problem.  

 

The second could only have been created by him. It’s as large as it’s possible for it to be and it’s drawn mostly in blood. There are more splatters in some places and the lines aren’t always clean, as if the hand had been jerked away from the wall. It’s complete though, an engineering marvel so advanced he’s not sure it could even be built with the cutting edge of current technology. He’s not even sure how he’s able to instantly see what it will do. It’s almost like this one thing has always lived inside his brain but was too terrible to be contemplated as a whole. It’s so much it should be giving him a headache rather than the relaxation that some from a job well done after a long project is finished. He almost collapses from the lightness he feels.

 

His diagram makes Tony understand perfectly why Recorder 451 tried to take him out as well in the end. Whoever killed him, Reed most likely, should probably be highly congratulated, then pardoned, for all past and future indiscretions. Unless he built it, then he’d be even more damned then this Tony. It would however save the earth from any foreign invader that ever tried to touch her. This would make every awful thing Tony has ever done in his life combined look like a gift or a kiss on the cheek. 

 

Once he’s able to look away from the wall, too late for the design not to be permanently etched in his memory, he looks down at the body. Tony’s actually relieved that it’s him, or at least that it’s this world’s him. The body is practically skeletal, with his hair too thin and brittle and his excessively dry skin he looks like he was suffering from anorexia. His skin is too pale, Tony suspects this is a byproduct of an overabundance of time spent indoors and not merely from blood loss. Tony’s not actually sure whether the exposed and rasped three distal phalanges on both hands, with the vestiges of meat and skin still clinging by bare threads, or the evidence of what his mind is capable of thinking up is more disturbing.  

 

‘I know why Steven didn’t want me to see this.’ Tony thinks. ‘ We’re both going to have new set of nightmares.’

 

Steven keeps the silence they have fallen into. His eyes blue eyes darting from the bloody wall, to Tony, to Tony’s hands, then down to the corpses hands. It’s like he’s stuck in a loop. Tony doesn’t speak just comes to stand closer to Steven until he can reach out and touch him. Steven’s eyes lock with Tony’s own for a long moment. He looks so desperate for something, something that Tony won’t name. It’s too much. Tony lets his hand fall away only to have it caught up in Steven’s larger one. Steven runs the pads of fingers over the tips of Tony’s fingers before he interlocks their hands together. Tony gawks at him but Steven’s looking back down at the body again. He’s looking at the hands, or what’s left of them. The thumb and pinky on the right hand look like raw meat with the barest hint of bone.

 

<“That’s not what killed him Steven,”> Tony hears himself say at last.  Tony’s had a moment of clarity regarding Reed’s devise and it has distressing implications. <“We need to turn him over.”>

 

<“Tony,”> the plea is clear in his voice along with confusion. <“I don’t understand. He smells like you, almost exactly. Were there two of you here? Do you have a twin? You can’t have killed him, you’ve been with me, but who else could be on this island? Are they after you? Can we go back home now? I don’t, I can’t, Tony please.”> The last is spoken against Tony’s skin, Steven having enveloped him in a strong an unsteady embrace that threatens to break bones as well as deprive him of air.  

 

Tony swallows and grips Steven as strongly as he can, hoping it hurts enough to ground the other man. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steven or his counterpart so shaken. <”Steven I need you to listen, and loosen your grip. Yes that’s better.”> Tony takes in the deepest breath he can before he tries to explain, <”Listen to me, okay?  This isn’t our island. Well it is but it isn’t. Yes I know that doesn’t make sense give me a moment. Remember how you’re from a different world and you and the ship showed up in mine? Well we walked into another world that’s probably more like my world then it is your world. That's me. That corpse is mine, I’m sorry but it is. I don’t think your universe counterpart in this world left me here alone. I think he left me here with a man named Reed Richards.”>

 

The super soldier calmed even as Tony spoke, his momentary weakness tramped down. Steven pulls back and cups Tony’s face with both hands as he gazes into his companions eyes. <”Why would he leave someone here with you that could kill you?”>

 

<”Steve probably didn’t imagine that he would. You guys are terribly optimistic for brilliant tacticians. If it’s any consolation I know I probably wouldn’t have considered he was capable of homicide before today.”> Tony offers and glances away from Steven toward the wall, making himself look at Reeds work and not his own. <”And he had a pretty good motive.”>

 

<“Motive! Does motive even matter Tony? Someone murdered you and you’re suggesting they had a good reason?”> Steven says with feeling, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on Tony’s jaw but Tony suspects that there will be bruises. The blond lets go of his face and reaches for his hand before marching in the direction of the entrance. <”We’re going back home. Now, before this Reed can come back and try to kill you too.”>

 

Tony resists the movement attempting to hold his ground, <“Steven I…We can’t go home yet. Literally probably, but also morally. We can’t just leave.”>

 

Steven momentarily freezes, <“I’ll come back later and bury him.”> He continues to tug on Tony’s hand and Tony has a feeling the man just going to throw in over his shoulder and run for it in a moment. <”You need to go back home.”>

 

<”Steven stop!”> Tony demands. Steven just moves to pick him up so Tony uses the moves Steve taught him to break Steven’s hold and get him on the ground.  He knows it only works due to his own familiarity with Steve’s reaction and Steven’s shock but it will have to work. Steven has to calm down and more importantly listen. <”I don’t give a damn about being buried! I care about saving the world so stop reacting and let me.”>

 

Steven, face nearly as shocked as that time Tony presented Steve with the remains of his shield in a briefcase*, goes still then pliant with Tony still on top of him. <”Explain.”>

 

<”Right, as I was trying to tell you there was an actual motive for killing me,”> Tony pauses to look over at the diagrams. <“Or more precisely him.”>

 

Steven scowls, <”There isn’t a motive good enough to excuse murdering you.”>

 

<“Nice of you to say so but in this case yes I think there was,”> Tony counters his eyes flicking over to the blood on the wall. <“The person they stuck me here with, in my world is actually smarter than me. And, dear god, in the exceedingly unlikely event that you ever meet Reed, never tell him I said that. Especially not within the hearing of Peter Parker or Johnny Storm. They might have done the same thing in my world if I hadn’t helped him escape with his family to another Earth.”> Steven looks a cross between mutinous and like he might have swallowed a lemon at this so Tony adds, <“Reed, his wife Sue, and I are friends and he has kids so don’t look at me like that, Rogers.”

 

<“You think Reed, the one who was on your side during that Superhero Civil War and part of your illuminati group, murdered you. You also think he had a good reason because he’s smarter then you?”> Steven questions only sounding truly incredulous.  

 

<“When you say it like that it sound ridiculous. I’m sure he did it as quickly and humanely as possible. The Jarvis of this world should probably write him a polite thank you note for ending my suffering,”> Tony retorts.

 

<”Tony,”> Steven growls in a rather bestial manner that makes Tony’s shoulder twinge. 

 

<“I didn’t know you could growl like that as a human.”> He says awed before getting back to the point serious once more. <“Those two drafts on the wall. Reed made one and I made the other one. The one I made will protect earth from alien invaders pretty much by erasing any threat that come close enough. Not just an individual or a ship but every single one of them anywhere in this verse. I didn’t think I could ever design something like that. That’s the type of power God is supposed to have if there is such a being. I designed that, was so obsessed with it that I didn’t stop working on it long enough to find more charcoal.”> His finger itch just thinking about the pure driving need that consumed his other self. He grips Steven tighter as if it could chase the feeling away. 

 

<”Tony,”> Steven says, calling him back from that other self. <”You didn’t design that, he did. Neither of you made it or will ever make it. Sometimes people think terrible things but there’s a big difference between think or even planning and actually doing it.”>

 

Tony forces a twitch of a smile on his face to reassure Steven that he’s heard him. <”I’ll try and keep that in mind. Now as you can no doubt tell this other Tony had gone mad, completely, he wasn’t long for this world even if Reed hadn’t killed him. I think it’s quite possible Reed went a little crazy too. He was definitely desperate to get off this island, I’m fairly certain he’s not here anymore. In any case I severely doubt he’s in this universe anymore. That other draft is his. It’s a devise that will open portal to other worlds, which is how we got here I suspect.”>

 

Steven’s eyes widened, <”is he in our world?”>

 

Tony shakes his head and looks back over at the diagram, <”No, I don’t think so, he was looking for a way off the island not just onto another version of it. The machine can’t be terribly precise with the limitations of material on hand. It’s going to open a lot of portals which is why we have to stay here the shut it down. Reed killed me so he could use my arc reactor to power the devise but eventual it’s going to overload or backfire. If that happens the best case scenario is that only this world is destroyed. Worst case scenario it takes out this world and every world it’s attached to by portal and start another multiverse collapse.”>

 

<“Mother and country*,”> Steven swears. <”Alright I concede, we can’t leave until we stop this machine.”>

 

<”As if you couldn’t throw me off any time you wished,”> Tony huffs and stops pretending to hold Steven down. He stands and watches appreciatively as Steven bounces to his feet as he adds, <”I have the sneaky suspicion you just like me on top of you.”>

 

Steven’s ears turn red and color rises on his cheeks, <”That is a topic of conversion to revisit once we return home. Where I can do something about it.”>

 

Tony manages not to gape at Steven but it’s a near thing. ‘ Hell I’d better not be blushing too or this is going to be just ridiculous.’ Tony clears his throat and tries to school his expression into something more apologetic as he says, <”we still need to flip him over just to be sure.”> The remains of Steven’s blush vanish as all the blood drains from his face in mere seconds. <”I’ll do it if you don’t want to see.”> Tony offers even though he knows Steven won’t let him touch the corpse.

 

<”No, I’ll do it.”> Steven says just like Tony’s new he would. <”You don’t have to look though.”>

 

<”Nice of you to offer but if it’s going to be haunting you till the end of your days then… well what’s that saying about pain shared?”> Tony asks and steals himself. 

 

Steven lets out a shaky sigh and grudgingly kneels to turn the body over. Like he thought, the front of the other Tony’s chest is a mess and the R.T. node is missing; but it had definitely once been there. <“Well at least he broke my neck before removing it,”> the other Tony’s head had flopped alarmingly, it appears rigor has not quite full set in or maybe it’s come and gone. Didn’t he once know that sort of morbid information? <“Okay then Steven, how long do you think I’ve been dead?”>

 

<“An hour,”> Steven replies. <“Two tops, and can you please not refer to him as if he’s actually you?”>

 

<“He is me Steven. We’ll call him ‘Not Me” or “The Body” if that makes you feel better though. Reed is definitely gone. He would have waited as long as possible before taking the R.T. node but we need to find his machine. I don’t want to be inadvertently responsible for destroying another Earth,”> Tony says and heads back toward the cave entrance.

 

<“Damn it!”> He hears Steven swear behind him. Tony knows that Steven understands exactly how bad the situation is if the other man is swearing.

 

<“You probably caught some of Reed’s scent so can you track whichever is the most recent path he took?”> Tony’s pretty sure he knows the most likely place for Reed to set up the devise be he has a feeling that Steven will be able to track him without trouble. 

 

Steven nods and leads the away with sure footsteps despite never having seen this part of the island before. Before long Steven turns, walking mostly backwards, because he’s just that sickeningly coordinated, to ask a question. <“If you dismantle this devise will we be able to get back to – Tony!”> Steven pounces on Tony forcing him to the ground with great speed but unprecedented care. Tony had only enough time to hear the faint whistling sound of a projectile before he’s blinking up at Steven’s bearded face. It’s still a bit strange, to Tony, seeing Steve’s face with a full blown beard; but then again Tony suspects that his own beard rivals those of Tolkien’s dwarves by now.

 

The lycanthrope growls low in his throat as he moves into a crouch, shield in place, guarding him in the next moment. Tony decides not to call him on it, leathers aside he’s not terribly well outfitted to deal with a fight also he know there’s a time and a place for some conversations. He looks for what nearly hit him and finds it with only a little trouble. Imbedded in the dirt is a tranquilizer dart which sort of indicates that there are no immediate plans for his death. ‘ That’s reassuring I’d really rather not die on Steven twice in one day.’ 

 

<“Can you tell how many and how far?”> Tony asks and moves carefully trying to expose at little as he can. He activates the R.T. node’s magnetic force-field enough that it should handle bullets and any more darts.

 

<“Two so far,”> Steven replies, <“There's a woman with a gun, she’s blond and wearing white suit that is indecently tight.”>

 

<“That sounds like Emma Frost, Sue Richards, or Sharon Carter and Emma and Sue wouldn’t have bothered with a gun, or stealth really. I thought Sharon was dead though. Different worlds though and she’s as does have a tendency to play possum... What about the other one?”> Tony asks.

 

<“I can’t get a clear scent and what I’m aging is confusing, but possibly male considering their not all that light on their feet,”> Steven replies.

 

<“Well that could be a lot of people but let’s hope that it’s not James Barnes or we’re very screwed,”> Tony comments helpfully. Anyone else he could probably reason with, even Cage.

 

<“Tony if that portal’s still open and I held them off would you make a run for home?”> Steven asks but he sounds like he already knows the answer.

 

<“Not a chance,”> Tony confirms for him and Steven’s shoulders sag slightly in resignation. < “Besides the machine still has to be stopped.”>

 

<“Fine, stay close,”> Steven tells him then says loudly enough that Sharon can probably hear, <“We’ll surrender without a fight so long as you promise not to hurt Tony.”> He repeats himself in English for good measure.

 

<“What about you Steven?”> Tony hisses, he feels like a goddamned damsel again and it is not his cup of tea, thanks.

 

<“I’m hard to kill and I heal really fast. You, however, could die if you caught a cold right now,”> Steven reminds him stubbornly. Tony firmly tells the childish part of him, which wants to remind Steven that technically it’s his fault that his immune system is fucked to hell and back, to go sit in the corner. The R.T. node helps him recover faster but from what little he knows, his body’s not actually able to build immunities anymore.

 

“Your terms for surrender are acceptable, now put down your shield,” Announces, seemingly, this worlds Steve Rogers as he steps into view. The man is dressed in the black and white uniform of the S.H.E.I.L.D director with an open double breasted grey greatcoat coat over that. He looks more like a statue then a breathing person and appears to be grimmer then even his Steve. There’s a long scar that runs from his hairline to his jaw on one side of his stern face, and he has an eye patch on that side. Tony tells himself that it is not even mildly attractive. “Dr. Stark lower yours as well and feel free to stand up.”

 

Tony grimaces at the title, it’s never done anything but make him feel like he should use a scalpel rather than a screwdriver, and he lowers the force field. Steven places the shield on the ground as he eyes up the other version of himself. Tony stands straight rather than crouching as Steven does the same. “So is it Commander or Director Rogers?” the English feels strange on his tongue which is ridiculous. 

 

“It’s still Director, Tony, as you well know,” Director Rogers replies, then takes a closer look at Tony. “No, maybe you wouldn’t. You’re not our Tony. Where are you from and how did you get here?" 

 

‘How the hell does he know I’m not this worlds Tony Stark?’ He doesn’t voice his question instead deciding to answer the one give to him, “Steven and I were investigating a disturbance on the island in my world and we literally ran into this one less than an hour ago.”

 

“So you’re incarcerated on that island like our Tony is here?” Director Rogers sounds a little defeated and disheartened by the fact that yet another Tony ended up imprisoned on this island. He glances at Steven briefly and asks, “I was incarcerated too in your world?”

 

“Er, no he wasn’t. Look, Steven’s Facebook setting is set at “it’s complicated”. It doesn’t really matter at the moment any way because he’s not your problem.” Retorts Tony, offended on Steven’s behalf although the other man hasn’t done much more then try to bore holes into his counterpart from the moment the other man because visible.  “What I guess I need to know before I tell you what your actual problem is, is this; prior to his incarceration here were you and the Tony of this world friends?”

 

Director Rogers actually looks a little offended, “He’s still my friend.”

 

<”Sure because friend abandon other friends on islands to go crazy,”> Steven mutters darkly. The Director’s nostrils flare and his eyes flash to Steven but he shows no other signs of irritation before focusing back on Tony.

 

“So you’re here to take him home?” Tony wheedles. “No, Sharon, that was Sharon right, wouldn’t have tried to tranquilize me if you were here for that. Did you just come for Reed then?” Tony questions. Director Rogers’ face doesn’t give any clue as to what the answer is.

 

<“Tony?”> Steven questions. <“What are you trying to get at?”>

 

<“I thought someone was monitoring me via satellite. If they had been then someone would have shown up on the island to take the aircraft you showed up in within the first week. It’s also worth mentioning that they would have had some scientist sent out there to find out why the iceberg decided to shift from your world to mine. That leaves a couple of not very lovely probabilities for me to consider. Starting with Captain America and Maria Hill marooning me with no intent of ever returning to find out if or when I died. Which would mean my best friend, the man, according to reports, I stopped my own heart to save*, previously the most important person to me in the world, isn’t the man I thought he was.”> Tony explains to Steven even as he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s sizing up Director Rogers, prepared to judge the type of man he is. Director Rogers looks momentarily like he’s been struck before his expression blanks once more. 

 

Something not human, though perhaps it is very deeply human, flashes though Steven’s eyes but he doesn’t move. <”What are the other possibilities?”>

 

<”I suppose there is also the possibility of some sort of transmitter placed with in my body. I wasn’t conscious much before I was on the transport here it would have been easy to do that while I was unconscious. There would have to be some way to keep it charged though and the signal would have to be fairly strong. Now that the R.T. node is working correctly again I should be able to sense something like that.”> Tony answers. “So really Director did you leave me here to be forgotten and die?”

 

Director Rogers visible eyes twitches slightly before he speaking into a communicator, “Agent Carter, go check sector B and take Romanova with you.” Tony does the man the courtesy of attempting not to listen to the woman’s response. “I know what I’m doing Carter… Roger that, I’ll be off com for ten minutes.” He doesn’t wait to hear out Sharon’s displeasure, he simply turns the communicator off.

 

“I don’t think she’ll like that,” Tony intones not trying hard enough to keep the contempt and sarcasm out of his voice. “Looks like it’s the couch for you tonight.”

 

“She doesn’t like it but she’s going to do it, also Agent Carter is married and not to me.” Tony can’t tell if the other man is bitter about that or not. They wait and about a minute in silence until Director Rogers relaxes minutely and says, “As much as I wish I were, I’m not here to take Tony and Reed home. I’m not allowed. You’re right, we aren’t monitoring the island visually in any way. It’s too much of a risk considering all the very intelligent people that very much would like ether to rescue Tony and Reed or put their heads on a platter. There’s a chip implanted in both Tony and Reed that is recharged by heat that lets Agent Hill, Sub-Director Coulson and I know their location.”

 

“Let me guess, you decided to take a trip down here because Reed’s device stopped working?” Tony proposes as an answer. God he’s getting angry at this whole situation. He remembers the dream versions of Steve accusing, “You deserve this. You’re a monster.” Normally it makes him sick and a little sad. He’s seen what he can do now, knows this is the best place for someone like him. Confronted by this Steve Rogers though, who calls himself a friend, makes him so bitterly angry. Beside him he can feel Steven shifting ever so slightly, he’s pretty upset too.

 

Director Rogers nods carefully, “Tony’s too. It stopped before Reed’s did. If they found out about them and found a way to get them out they will need medical help, I have med team on the beach.”

 

“These chips, send you a location but do they also monitor health?” Steven asks, and it’s strange to hear accented English flow from his mouth. “Was something built in to alert you if they were in danger?”

 

“No, we assumed Reed and Tony could keep each other alive and sane until they could be pardoned. Reed’s damned near indestructible and Tony’s ridiculously lucky when it comes to near death situations.” Director Rogers sounds both defensive and slightly proud.

 

Tony torn between laughing and screaming, though yielding to either would send him over the edge. He’s practically vibrating inside his own skin as he tries to hold back but a short humorless chuckle escapes. “Yeah, well his luck ran the fuck out. Probably the same time mine did, back when you left us on this shit hole of an island.” The grin on his face feels disturbing and manic and distantly he’s glad Steven isn’t looking at him. Steven has his other self pegged as a threat and that taking his eyes off Director Rogers would give the man an opening to attack.

 

Tony wants to show this Steve every new scar he has. Wants to tell him how he almost had to cut off his own leg six months in. Steven’s had to live though the fevers, and apparently his death, but there had been other close calls before he came. Tony’s pretty sure the only reason he’s lived this long is because of the R.T. node forced his heart to keep beating, the one function it was allowed to do after the dampener was attached to it. 

 

This Steve thought Reed could keep him sane? Reed fed the devil inside him until he was writing with his own bones. Tony could just imaging it. It would have started as a game, information and challenges, just to keep them occupied in the long hours. The buzz in Tony’s mind to create would demand more and more as his whole body itched for tools and hardware to create the things that Reed and he thought up together.  By the time Reed would have figured out that their fun was harming rather than helping it would already have been too late. Tony’s pretty sure that when the other him had started writing with his own fingertips it would have felt like relief to the itch and something as mundane as pain didn’t even factor.

 

The dark humor inside of Tony turns cruel and Tony doesn’t even recognize his own voice as he continues to speak. “If your 'friends' were put here together for the same crimes that I was left alone on my island for then it’s likely you and “your Tony” had very nearly the same conversation Captain America and I did. The one where you told me that I had had a choice. I informed you that I didn’t. You remember, the one where I told you I was programed to be what I am, down to the alcoholism. You told me I was making excuses.” Tony practically spits the last word and his vision is actually tinged with red.

 

“Said that I didn’t want to take responsibility for what I had done? Like I somehow didn’t feel responsible for every time someone mind-controlled me, or took over my armor, or they killed somebody using my tech? You called me a liar, right? You still think I lied. You left me on this island that you bought years ago, during the armor wars right, just so you would have somewhere to put me when I finally crossed the line. Some friend. You left me with nothing but the goddamned  Hobbit to distract my mind? I was alone until I stated hallucinating my friend. Even with them I was still alone until for some reason the verses sent me Steven.” Tony chokes on something that could be a sob or a laugh. More softly because it’s hard to says even though he’s incapable of not saying it, “and I still have my goddamned fingertips.”

 

Tony makes the mistake of looking down at his scarred hands and he’s overwhelmed by the thought that his whole relationship with Steve was even more of a lie then his own existence. He feels so broken with that realization. “I’m programmed to be too stubborn to die. God, that bastard… Damn him and my parents for ever allowing this. Do you understand? I’m not programmed to stop so someone has to stop me.”

 

“You can’t be programmed Tony. You stopped drinking that should be proof enough of that,” Director Rogers insists. “451 is just an excuse so you can do whatever the hell you want.”

 

Tony knows Steven had been somewhat incredulous about a human being manipulated before birth without the use of serious magic but he’d taken it in stride. If an elder god, the greater fey, or an efreeti could do it then why couldn’t an advanced android? They had never talk about the impossibility of it, bloodline curse or fairy gifts, while not common where something that was fact to Steven. What was wrong with Tony was exactly like those to Steven. Tony had asked him if Steven had been given a blessing that made him see the good in every one. Steven had rolled his eyes and flicked his ear in retaliation. 

 

<“Tony,”> Steven tries to interrupt carefully. He’s twitching because he wants to do what he can for Tony but he’s not willing to stop looking at the threat in front of him. A threat he really wants to punch if Tony’s reading him right. Maybe Steven can see the train wreck that’s coming, maybe he just wants Tony to remember that he’s there.

 

Tony remembers Steven is there, it is an accepted fact that feels devoid of meaning in this moment. This moment is about revenge for that poor bastard in the cave. “You took away his tools and his distractions. You gave him nothing but time to think and theorize and draw goddamned schematics. You left him an even more brilliant mind to feed the creative centers in his brain. Then he lost it. Over tasked the system. They designed the parts and the pieces, Tony might have even helped make them. He let Reed figure out how to put them together though it escaping this universe wasn’t what he was meant for. He gave Reed the escape route, a way out of hell. Then he proved to Reed, who proved to be a truer friend and better person than you, that he had to be stopped. Reed, your safety net, killed your Tony Stark, Director Rogers; but you’re the reason he went insane first.” Tony could see all that, deduce it from what he had seen. 

 

The untangling the scene in the cave in his mind feels like it unravels something inside him to. He feels like he’s about to fall into an abyss. He doesn’t know if he’ll get back out of it and doesn’t know that he wants to. Why do people become catatonic or pick up any number of mental maladies? Is it because the ingredients are already there, measured out and one day you just stop holding them back and let them fall into the bowl? Is insanity a choice? Does it come with permission? Is it another form of surrender? It seems like it would be a relief to just stop trying or caring. It would be so easy to let everything go, to stop holding on by his teeth. God he can taste it, so seductive and frightening. ““But love's a malady without a cure.” John Dryden said that. I think it’s true actually I think there’s scientific studies that prove it too, I think Helen Fisher worked on them.” Tony hears himself saying as if through a tunnel. “I think that’s why I always knew that you were the one thing that could truly save me. However what I saw today proves you are the only one who could break me. Good job Cap. Good job."

 

Steven pushes Tony out of the way just before Director Rogers can get his hands on him. The intent was to protect Tony from and tormented super soldier but ultimately fails to save Tony from harm. Tony’s head connects with a rock, hard, and blood teams down Tony’s face. Head wounds always bleed a lot and almost always look worse than they actually are, Tony’s had several and he’s not really worried about this one. Tony’s not truly worried about anything. He makes the mistake of touching the wound though and he thinks that he might be feeling the actual bone under his fingers. He pulls them away and blinks at the color. ‘ Literal blood on my hands. Red is such a beautiful color.’ 

 

“Avenger!” A Steve shouts. Tony can’t not look for the origin of that voice. Steven and Director Rogers are wrestling oblivious to anything but each other. Steve is there though dressed in the first costume he made him he looks down as Tony not even casting a disparaging glance at the other two version of him. 

 

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since I got to this world. Have I?” Tony can’t remember, he’s been trying so hard not to pay the hallucination any attention. 

 

“Tony why are you just sitting there? Shake a leg Avenger.” Steve chides. “Saving the world Tony that’s our job.” 

 

Tony stands and the world lurches and sways for a sickening moment. He’s moving though walking in the direction most likely to contain the machine. When he has to catch himself against a tree he sees his blood covered hand and for some reason it’s hilarious. A laugh burbles out of him and it’s high, quick and maybe just a little panicked. ‘ Aren’t my hands always covered in blood?’ He examines his hands as he moved on.  ‘Build the future, save the world. The price of progress is paid in blood. I built the device. Saved the world.’

 

“Destroyed someone else’s.” Steve points out mater-o-fact, like he knows Tony can’t deal with actual condemnation in his tone but he can’t just let him forget.

 

”Wasn’t that timeline erased? Or did we actually do it again? Namor did that right? He pushed the button. I know I built it then refused to.”

 

“It was erased but it still happened. You still killed that whole world.” Steve replies. “Save this one though it might help balance the scales. Save your soul so to speak. Do programs have souls?” 

 

Tony’s not sure they do but he’s not sure there is such a thing or that is there is that every human gets them.  ‘Would I be saving that other Tony’s soul if I saved this world for him? Reed already saved if from him. Poor Reed did he know his portal devise would just keep going? Did he know he was dooming this world when he left it? What does it say about us hero’s if in order to save ourselves when have to destroy the things we care for most. Maybe we should all live on islands and only show up when needed, we’ll hurt less people that way. '

 

“No Tony If we lived apart then we would stop caring. We would stop showing up to do our jobs, Tony,” Steve reminds him. “Saving the world is your job.”

 

“I’ve been slacking.” Tony chortles. “Tony Stark off lazing on some island while the world burns.”

 

“You’re a terrible person.” Steve teases without malice. “And no one loves terrible people except maybe their mothers.”

 

“Then I guess I’d better shake a leg and fix that Portal devise,” Tony says and stumbles along just a bit faster. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://tattoo-lotus.tumblr.com/post/92786738564/two-parts-broken-chapter-16


	17. NOT A REAL CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOT A CHAPTER JUST AN IMPORTANT NOTE.

Hello Readers,

         First of all I'd like to thank all of you for sticking around and waiting for chapters that were suppose to be finished a year ago.  Actually thank you for reading this at all. Thank you for loving Steven, I love him too, and for wanting him around. Thank you for the comments. 

        Now onto what you all actually want to know, "When can I, the reader, expect the next chapter?" The answer is "I don't know," with a dash of "Hopefully soon." In the Last year I've broken my tail bone, started painting again, moved, had my computer repaired 3 times, left a stable job, and became a live in Nanny of 3 kids. The fact that my depression has knocked me on my ass so hard that it's a struggle to get out of bed **every** day has also been a huge factor in why you've had to wait this long. In the next 2 months I have to find a new job, new housing, attend my sister's wedding, and move.  I am making plans and I've started forcing myself to change my routine.

        This is good for you because I means I'm actually working on this fic now. I've transferred the whole story to google docs (never again will I be unable to write because I don't have access to my computer.) and I'm willing to invite interested persons into the document to help point out spelling, grammatical and continuity errors, ask questions, or just leave a comment. I'm hoping this will help expedite the project and make this fic even better but if I find that this experiment is abused (example: non-constructive hateful comments or my fic being stolen by other 'authors') I will lock everyone out again. I really love this story and I want it to be the best it can be.

       I have gone back to the beginning to familiarize myself with everything and edit/add content to the story. I'm half way through editing chapter one, _again_ , and I will re-post each chapter as I finish.  My hope is that Two Parts Broken will be completed by Christmas which is later than originally planned for that I apologize.

       Yours with Love,

               Tattoo_Lotus

 

Update 11/8/15

Hey sorry for the lack of updates. You may or may not have noticed the updated version of chapters 1&2 or the I updates chapter 1 again less then a week ago but I am tentatively working on this again.  It's hard because I'm almost afraid to touch it for fear of ruining it.

As far as life updates go I've moved, started a full time job, seen my little sister get married, I'm also now an Aunt which is so cool and my depression is for the most part manageable. I lost an Aunt and an uncle on top of a new friend to Alzheimer's, cancer, and heart failure respectively.  But really the biggest change in a way has been loosing my faith.

 

Any ways I hope you guys can bare with a little longer.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. So this fic ignores the existence or Arno Stark entirely.  
> 2\. A lot of the quotes and even a couple of the scenes are taken directly from the comics and I don't have the money or the time to track down which panel came from which comic ect. I have a tumbler to I might create a couple posts showing which panels I used.  
> 3\. if you think there is an archive warning I should add tell me I don't want someone to read something they're not ready for.
> 
> P.S. All love is accepted especially in the form of fan art and Podfic. 
> 
> Also comments feed the savage Muse. Please keep her happy and healthy. Thank you.


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